


Fall from Grace

by LighthouseHunter101



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 24,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3895735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LighthouseHunter101/pseuds/LighthouseHunter101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim and Blair investigate the death of a nightclub bouncer. Then Blair's life takes an emotional turn when he saves Jim's life at a robbery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fall from Grace

**Author's Note:**

> Set towards the end of the second series.

Part 1

"You can't go in, we have a strict dress code and jeans are not allowed," the bouncer of the Blue Ocean Nightclub said as the young man tried to get past him and into the club. 

"Come on, I forgot okay. We only want one drink and then we'll leave."

"You know I can't, if I do it for you I'll have to do it for everyone. Come back tomorrow night when you're more appropriately dressed," the bouncer insisted firmly.

"This sucks," another man said in the crowd, they were all impatiently trying to get into the trendy nightclub.

The two bouncers on duty were jostled by the crowd for a few moments as they tried to keep order. It was the usual crowd of young revellers trying to gain admittance. There were a few angry shouts from the back, as the crowd became impatient.

The first bouncer suddenly felt a sharp pain in his back between his ribs; he wasn't sure what was happening at first. Then his vision swam and he touched his side which felt sticky and warm. It was then that he realised he'd been stabbed. He sank to his knees as unconsciousness started to claim him. He realised he was dying and there was nothing he could do about it.

"Craig!" the second bouncer, Nils Mulberry, shouted as he saw his friend crumple to the ground. "Oh God, no!!" he shouted as he saw the blood on his friend's side. "Someone call 911!" he cried as he cradled his friend in his arms. 

The crowd moved back, the young revellers suddenly unsure of themselves. They started to disperse not wanting to be involved in the situation.

"Nils...." Craig uttered, he was scared and didn't want to die.

"Help's coming, buddy," Nils said but even as he said it he knew it was too late.

Craig Cheyne's eyes glazed over and he went limp in the bouncer's arms.

A moment later he was dead.

^^^^^^^^^^

Jim Ellison sighed when he reviewed the initial report of the murder of the bouncer the previous night. Another senseless death. There was a list of witnesses who had been present at the time of the incident; but none of them had actually seen anything. 

"What we got, Jim?" Blair asked, as he sat down in his usual seat beside his friend's paper strewn desk.

"Senseless murder of a nightclub bouncer. Craig Cheyne, aged 29." He handed the initial Police report to Blair to read. Blair put on his glasses and started to peruse the document. 

"He was married. That's tough man."

"Mrs Cheyne's only twenty-seven."

Blair shook his head. "That's sad."

"Not the nicest part of the job, Chief. But we need to speak to the wife to see if her husband had any enemies, anyone who would want to kill him."

"He was a bouncer and they face danger every day just like you cops do. Do you think it could be a situation that got out of hand? One of the clientele not being allowed admittance takes umbrage and lashes out. It says in the report that the bouncer Craig Cheyne was in the process of refusing admittance to someone because of a dress code thing. Maybe he did it." 

"It's possible. I want to keep an open mind until we speak to everyone who was at the scene. We'll start at the club and then speak to the wife."

"Okay, let's go," Blair said and got up to follow his partner out of the Major Crimes office.

^^^^^^^^^^

The Blue Ocean Nightclub was on Riley Road. Jim pulled up outside of it and glanced round. The neighbourhood looked quiet, other businesses, bars and eateries lined both sides of the road. A large blue neon sign stood above the door, it was switched off during the day. But come the night it would glow with energy to entice new clientele. Next to the sign was a large white plastic wave which looked decidedly tacky. 

Jim and Blair walked up to the nightclub's front door and found that it was locked. The detective rapped on the door and waited for a few minutes. He could discern a heartbeat inside and knew someone was there. Finally the door opened and a man stood regarding the Sentinel.

"Detective James Ellison," Jim began, flashing the man his badge. "My partner, Blair Sandburg. We're here about the murder last night of your doorman Craig Cheyne."

"I've already spoken to the Police," the man said.

"You didn't speak to me," Jim replied with a no nonsense attitude.

The man opened the door wider and allowed the detective and observer in. 

"Come through to my office," the man said. 

"You are?" Jim enquired.

"Tommy Alban, the manager."

Jim and Blair were led to a room at the back of the nightclub. It was small and untidy; the man obviously did a lot of paperwork. Paper was stacked everywhere and not particularly orderly. The room looked more untidy than even the anthropologist's office at the university.

"Coffee?" he asked but they both declined.

"No, thank you," Jim stated.

Pleasantries over the manager got down to business, he was a busy man with a ton of paperwork to do and he wanted to get back to it. The club didn't run itself. 

"So, detective, how can I help you?"

"What sort of worker was Mr Cheyne?"

"Good worker, always on time, always civil. He was a good bouncer, level headed and never lost his temper, even with customers who tried it on with him. Being on the front line and refusing some people admission for having the wrong dress code, or being underage, isn't easy. But Craig was good at defusing hostile situations. I never had any problems with his working or one complaint about him ever."

"Can I have a list of all your employees and their addresses?"

"Or course I have one prepared," and Tommy handed Jim a piece of paper. 

"Craig Cheyne, did he have any enemies? Do you know anyone who would want to kill him?"

"None that I know of. Like I said he was well liked and was just basically a nice guy."

"Someone didn't think so, one of your clientele murdered him in cold blood," Jim stated directly.

"Being a nightclub bouncer holds risks, you know that, detective, being a cop yourself. You understand the dangers when you mix people with alcohol, it's an explosive mix."

Jim had been monitoring the manager's heartbeat and pulse, it had remained steady, he had told him the truth. 

The uniformed officers who had attended the scene had taken numerous statements from people who had been present at the time, but no one had seen anyone actually commit the murder. A number of witnesses had simply wandered off and were now possibly untraceable. 

"Is there a camera on the front door area?" Jim asked.

"No, it's inside. I already viewed the tape and the incident can't be seen from inside."

"I'd still like a copy of the tape, maybe we can see something you can't."

"You're welcome to the tape detective, anything to find the person responsible for this senseless death."

"Thank you for your co-operation, sir."

Jim got up to leave and shook hands with the man. If he was involved in the murder he wasn't giving away any tell tale signs. Then he and Blair left.

Next Jim and Blair went to visit Cheyne's widow Monica. They found her alone and crying in a small apartment. She allowed them entry as she wiped at her tears and blew her nose as she tried to compose herself. Blair and Jim sat on the sofa as Monica sat on an adjacent armchair. 

"My condolences at the loss of your husband," the detective began.

Monica nodded and her sorrow filled brown eyes looking directly at Jim. 

"Thank you. Craig was a good man, he wasn't smart but he was funny and loyal. He loved me and I'll miss him," she stopped as a sob escaped. She wiped at her eyes profusely and dabbed at her nose. "I'm sorry," she said apologising for her show of emotion.

"Don't apologise, it's perfectly natural," Blair said and Monica smiled through her sadness at the understanding observer.

"I'm sorry to ask these questions but it's important," Jim said. 

"I understand, detective," she replied taking a deep breath. "I want my husband's killer caught."

Jim smiled sympathetically and then asked. "Did your husband have any run-ins at work or any enemies that you know of?"

"Not that I'm aware of detective. I told him not to take that job, that it would be too dangerous. But he swore to me he would be safe, that Nils Mulberry would watch his back, obviously he didn't watch his back close enough," she said with a touch of sarcasm in her voice.

"Nils Mulberry?" Jim asked looking at the list of names that Tommy Alban had given him. 

"He's a fellow bouncer at the nightclub my husband worked at. They were friends; Craig said that Nils was dependable and that they made a good team. Craig said that there wasn't that much trouble at the Ocean just a few rowdies every now and then. I don't know if he said that to make me feel better but my husband didn't even come home with so much as a bruise before yesterday. And now he's gone," Monica added mournfully.

Jim hated this and felt like a bull in a China shop, trying to sound compassionate and empathise with her grief, but still get the information he needed.

"Is there anyone you can call or stay with?" Jim asked the grieving widow. Her answers had been honest, if anyone had killed her husband she didn't know why or who.

"I called my mom earlier she's coming by later to stay with me."

"That's good," replied Jim standing. He handed her his business card and asked her to phone him if she thought of anything else no matter how insignificant she thought it might be. Then they left the widow to her grief. 

"That was tough," stated Blair as they got back into Jim's truck and drove off.

Jim nodded as he watched the road.

"Where to next?" Blair enquired.

"Nils Mulberry."

"The second bouncer."

Jim nodded as they drove away from the widow's apartment.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim knocked at the second bouncer's apartment door. After a third knock the door opened a crack.

"Who is it?" a male voice asked not opening the door any further, but revealing a pair of sad looking eyes.

"Nils Mulberry? Detective James Ellison," Jim stated holding up his badge for those eyes to view. "My partner Blair Sandburg."

"Hi," Blair said a step behind Jim.

The door opened to reveal a man in his early thirties, with brown hair that was starting to thin slightly on top and dark blue eyes. He wasn't as tall as Jim but was 6 foot with an athletic build. He also looked like hell, he had been crying and his eyes had dark circles under them. He had obviously taken Craig Cheyne's death hard.

"We're here about the murder of Craig Cheyne."

"Come in," Nils said opening the door wider for the detective and observer. 

They walked into a small living room that was neat and tidy and sat on the sofa. 

"Have you found out who killed Craig?" Nils asked sitting on an armchair.

"No, we were wondering if you saw anything," Jim asked.

"I wish I had. It was chaos. There were a number of people milling around and they were all trying to get into the club. Craig was refusing a man admission for what he was wearing. The next thing I know Craig collapses and he's dying in my arms." The man's eyes filled with tears as he spoke. "I've known Craig for four years and I recommended him for the job. I can't believe he's gone. Poor Monica what she must be going through."

"You know Mrs Cheyne?" Blair asked.

"Yes, not as well as Craig but the three of us used to go out socially on occasion."

"You're not married," Blair said.

"No, there was someone close, a while ago but it didn't work out. Craig took pity on me being single and I get on really well with Monica. I know Monica didn't want Craig to take the bouncer job but Craig's really good at it…was good at it." Nils looked away for a moment to gather himself before continuing. "He handled people really well. He was talking to that kid pleasantly about his jeans, and that he couldn't let him in, he wasn't sarcastic and didn't raise his voice. Do you think he did it?"

"No," Jim replied. "Craig was stabbed from behind, the witness with the jeans issue was in front of Craig."

"Couldn't he have reached round?"

"No the angle of the stab wound indicates he was stabbed from behind. Where were you standing?"

Nils thought for a moment. "Besides Craig on his right. He was stabbed on his left side that's where the blood was coming from." Nils stopped as his voice cracked. "I couldn't stop the bleeding..."

"You did everything you could," Blair said gently.

Nils nodded appreciating Blair's words "But it wasn't enough, Craig died in my arms."

"We're very sorry to have to question you like this," Jim said standing indicating that he had asked what questions he wanted for now. Blair stood up next to him. Jim handed the bouncer his card. "If you remember anything else, give me a call."

They left the bouncer's apartment.

"What did you think Jim?"

"His heartbeat didn't alter, he was calm until he started to talk about Craig in the past tense."

"I don't think he's accepted that Craig is dead yet. It must be hard to witness someone you know and work with every day killed right in front of you," Blair added.

Blair gave Jim a strange look then, which the detective knew straight away what it was. He was thinking himself in Nils' position and how if any low life got the better of Jim one day he might be the one holding his dying partner in his arms. Blair didn't want to go there and pushed the macabre thoughts away. Jim was too good a cop to let anyone get the better of him, which was why he needed Blair to back him up. So no one could take advantage of his Sentinel's vulnerability should his senses ever go out of whack whilst on a case. 

They got back into Jim's truck.

"There are four witnesses who came forward at the scene," Jim said and Blair picked up the file Jim had brought with them and read the list of names: Coleen Talbot, Marty Metchett, Guy Staley and Howard Mennin. "Marty Metchett was the one that Cheyne was refusing admission for wearing jeans."

"But he was stood in front of Craig," Blair stated.

Jim nodded. "The preliminary autopsy report will be in this afternoon. Judging from the uniformed attendance and the paramedics that attended Cheyne died from a single stab wound to the back. Metchett was stood in front of Cheyne at the time."

"Who was stood behind him?"

"That's what I was hoping the CCTV footage would reveal to us."

"But Alban said the cameras are inside the club not outside."

"That's why we are going to speak to the witnesses and see if we can get an idea where everyone was standing. Someone was close enough to Craig Cheyne to stab him unseen and walk away. I don't think it was anyone who came forward as a witness."

They spoke to the four witnesses but there wasn't much information forthcoming. Jim asked the witnesses if they knew who was stood behind Craig Cheyne but no one could remember as it all happened too fast. They were all concentrating on the altercation between the bouncer and Marty Metchett to notice anything else. Marty Metchett was the most talkative; he was really cut up about what had happened. He was nervous at first and Jim was suspicious but after speaking to him the detective realised he was not only saddened by the bouncer's death but also guilty. Guilty for arguing the point about wearing jeans when he knew the dress code. By the end of the conversation Jim knew that Marty Metchett definitely wasn't a suspect. But that he felt partly responsible and would carry round the guilt of Cheyne's death for some time. 

There were a lot of revellers outside and around the front entrance of the Blue Ocean Club. There were a number of people around Craig Cheyne at the time of the murder, people the witnesses didn't know and couldn't describe. They gave brief and general descriptions of what they could remember. But it wasn't going to be easy to trace any other witnesses if they didn't come forward themselves. 

It was late afternoon and they had been speaking to people all day and they were no closer to solving the case. There was no motive for Craig's death; he was well liked and respected at the club. He was good at his job and level headed. It sounded like a tragic spur of the moment stabbing, not pre-meditated. Someone had carried a concealed weapon on their person that night; no one carried a knife on them if they didn't intend to use it. But the outcome was the same whatever the motive – one man was dead.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

That evening the detective and observer reviewed the tape they had acquired from the Blue Ocean Club. But the footage didn't give them any more information. It was situated inside the club facing inwards and there were no clues forthcoming. As they watched the footage around the time of the actual murder Jim didn't recognise anyone coming or going from the club that looked suspicious or any known felons that were recognisable.

It was a dead end.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Next morning the Sentinel and Guide were in Jim's Ford on their way to the station. Blair didn't have any classes that morning so they were both focused on the bouncer murder, but still no nearer finding the perpetrator. Jim's police radio suddenly came to life and a female dispatcher broke the silence.

"All available units be advised a silent alarm at Jodrell's Jewellery, Matchborough and Blackford. Robbery in progress."

"That's only a block away," Jim stated as he replied "One-Zebra-One show me as responding." He flipped the switch to his vehicle's flashing blue lights and immediately increased speed. "Hold on, Chief," he said to his partner as they did a sharp right turn.

Blair was thankful he always wore his seatbelt in Jim's truck; you never knew when you would need the extra support to stay in your seat when Jim was eager to get to an incident.

They pulled up outside the jewellery store. 

"Stay in the truck, Chief," Jim said as he reached for the Ford's door handle. Blair nodded as the detective got out. As he walked towards the front of the store he reached behind the small of his back for his gun. With his gun in his hand Jim quickly sized up his initial thoughts on what was going down. He crouched down below the level of the large window and then hazard a quick look inside. He saw one armed robber stood next to a terrified woman who was putting jewellery items into a black bag. 

Jim glanced at the robber again, he was dressed all in black wearing a ski mask over his face, only his eyes were showing. Jim zeroed in on the man's eyes, they were crazed and wild looking. The detective moved quietly to the door and then opened it in one quick movement and rushed inside.

Blair watched his partner enter the jewellery store with concern, knowing he was doing what any cop would do but also aware that he was very much alone. That caused him to be worried for his friend as the weapon-less observer was his only back-up. There was no sign of any Police back-up imminently arriving. Blair decided to get out of the truck, despite Jim's instruction not to, and moved to the window where Jim had first observed the inside of the store. He took a peak into the store and gasped. Jim was facing down the robber his gun pointed at him. The robber had a terrified woman held close to him a gun pointed at her head. Blair's concerned blue eyes moved back to his friend wondering how he was going to contain the situation. 

Jim was stood as still as a statue, his gun trained on the robber's head, it didn't escape the cop's noticed that the woman was a lot shorter than her captor. Though she was a shield in front of him, his head was still exposed above her small form. He could easily pull the trigger and shoot him but the robber's finger was still on the trigger. All he had to do was twitch that finger as the bullet entered his brain and there would be two deaths. Could Jim take that chance and gamble with the woman's life?

"Put the gun down," Jim ordered.

"No way, cop!!" the robber replied. "You put your gun down or the lady gets it."

The sound of sirens could be heard in the distance but they were still blocks away.

The robber heard them. He tightened his hold on the woman making her squeal in terror. There was a desperate look in the man's eyes that didn't go unnoticed by the Sentinel.

"Okay, you win," Jim replied making a show of putting the hammer back on his gun and putting it slowly onto the floor. 

"Stupid cop!" the man said, as the gun moved from the frightened woman's head to aim straight at Jim.

Just then the door opened and Blair came rushing it. The robber saw Blair enter the store and his gun moved to the new threat. It was all the time Jim needed. The man was distracted, unsure where to aim his gun. The detective didn't have the time to retrieve his gun but he reached the robber in two strides, as his first concern was the gun he was still brandishing. He grasped the robber's arm and tilted his hand upwards, a shot rang out and made a hole in the ceiling. Fine white powdery residue floated lazily down. The woman screamed but managed to move aside. The robber was big and broad, almost as tall as Jim. Jim was concentrating on the hand with the gun. Then the robber kneed Jim in the stomach. The breath left Jim's body with an 'oof', causing the Cascade detective to double over. The robber used the moment to bring his left hand round and punch Jim in the face. The detective went down stunned. The robber was laughing now, he still had the gun in hand and it was pointed menacingly down at Jim. The robber laughed manically, his concentration on the cop prostrate at his feet.

The stars Jim saw faded from view as his senses recovered and he glanced up to see the robber's gun pointed at him. This didn't look good. Then a shot rang out. Jim flinched expecting to feel the pain of a bullet enter his body. A moment later he realised there was no pain and no bullet. The robber had a surprised look on his face; he glanced down at his chest to see a spreading crimson patch there. His knees buckled and the gun fell from his hand.

Jim looked round and saw that Blair was stood where he'd put his gun on the floor, but it was now in his hands. Jim's Sentinel abilities knew it had been his gun that had fired, the sound was distinctive and he knew the sound of his own gun. Blair had shot the robber.

Jim got up carefully, still feeling the pain in his ribs. He moved to the robber and moved the gun away. He felt for a pulse, it was faint but still there. Then he turned and looked at his partner. Blair was still stood with the gun raised in his hands, a look of shock on his face. Jim moved to his friend's side.

"Easy there, Chief. Give me the gun."

Blair didn't make any attempt to move. Jim gently prised the gun out of his friend's hands. The sirens were very close now, only seconds away. 

"Are you okay, ma'am?" Jim asked the frightened woman who nodded. "Help's here," he said. 

Then he gently took Blair's arm and steered him outside away from the sight of the robber lying on the floor. Outside the spring air seemed to revive the Police observer.

"Is he d-dead?" Blair asked.

"No," Jim replied but didn't add that it didn't look promising.

"He was going to shoot you," Blair responded.

"You saved my life, partner," Jim replied with pride as well as sadness. His ride along had crossed that line from the innocence of watching Police procedures to actually participating in them.

Jim opened the passenger side of the Ford and positioned Blair onto the seat. Then Jim phoned Simon and told him what had happened. The captain was already on his feet before he'd finished the phone conversation with his detective. He was out of his office's door within seconds of putting the phone down. 

Jim looked round and saw the uniformed Police officers doing their job. They had sealed off the shop, looking through the window he saw a uniformed officer taking a statement from the woman who'd been held hostage by the robber. He saw two other Police officers in the store bent over the robber, which made five people including the robber. But he realised, with sadness, that he could only detect four heartbeats.

Damn.

The robber was dead. He looked round at Blair and immediately noticed that he was shivering slightly. Shock had settled in. He looked so vulnerable at that moment, every bit the twenty-seven year old college kid that he was.

Jim found the blanket he kept in the truck for emergency situations. He draped it round his partner's shoulders. Blair barely registered the attention.

An ambulance arrived and two paramedics rushed into the jewellery store. Jim could see one of them with the woman and the other checking out of sight on the robber.

Jim glanced at his friend wishing things were different.

"He's dead isn't he, Jim?" Blair's pain laced voice suddenly asked, but his eyes remained looking down at the sidewalk.

"Yeah, I'm sorry, Chief."

Blair sucked in a ragged breath. "It was you or him. The thought of you lying lifeless instead of him is no contest." Blair said the words stoically trying to organise the thoughts and emotions in his head.

"He made his choice when he decided to rob the store," Jim stated firmly.

"Yeah," Blair replied. "I understand that, but it's still….."

"Hard."

"Yeah," Blair replied his blue eyes making contact with Jim's eyes for the first time.

The look in those blue depths took Jim by surprise; there was a haunted and vulnerable look. They were the eyes of a stranger. No, Jim told himself, it was still Blair, his Guide and friend; he was just dealing with some pretty emotional stuff at the moment.

Jim glanced back at the store, part of him wanted to be involved and directing the scene but the other part of him didn't want to leave Blair alone. Simon would arrive soon and he would take charge of the situation.

A small crowd of bystanders had started to gather on seeing so many emergency vehicles arriving at the small jewellery store.

Blair was gazing into space not looking at anything. His shivering had stopped but he still looked in shock. Jim detected his heartbeat was still racing and his respiration elevated. He didn't need a hospital but he needed to be away from this place and the visible reminder of what had happened. What he had done.

Jim saw Simon's car arrive and he told Blair he would just be a few moments. Blair nodded his head and the detective walked over to his captain. He briefed him quickly on what had transpired. The captain walked over to Jim's truck.

"You okay, Sandburg?" Simon asked noticing the vacant look on the huddled form in the passenger seat of Jim's truck.

"He's dead, Simon."

"I know, kid. But from what Jim tells me you did good."

"Yeah, I know but…"

"I know," Simon felt for the young observer. He remembered his first kill. A seventeen year old punk of a kid who should have known better than to brandish a gun at a uniformed officer. That was a long time ago now when Simon had been a rookie cop but he had never forgotten it. Nor would he ever forget it. He had been a trained Police officer at the time, doing the duty he had been trained for, not a ride along anthropologist who had barely held a gun before in his life, let alone discharged one.

"Jim, take Blair home. IA will want a statement from you both seeing as Blair fired your gun, but it seems a righteous kill to me and it will be just a formality. I'll see to the crime scene. You take care, Blair, okay."

Blair nodded "Thanks, Simon."

"I'll phone you later, Jim."

"Okay, sir," Jim replied as he shut the passenger door of the Ford.

"Take care of him," Simon added as he watched Jim start to walk away to get in the driver's side.

"You know I will, Simon," he replied.

Within a few seconds Jim was in the truck. Sandburg was still wrapped in the blanket so he fastened the seatbelt over the top of it and then, when he had fastened his own seatbelt, he started the vehicle. The Ford chugged into life and within seconds they were moving away.

Blair watched the Police cordon as they moved off. As they drove past he could just see the dark body through the glass door lying on the floor of the jewellery store. It was supine and still. Blair gripped his hands together beneath the blanket, knowing those hands had done that.

He couldn't believe he had picked up Jim's gun. What was even more surprising was that he hadn't even balked or hesitated. He had seen the robber's gun pointing down at Jim. He didn't even remember cocking the trigger. Blair had known the gunman was going to fire; he had only had a split second to react. He hadn't thought, he had just pointed the gun at the man and fired in one fluid movement. A primal instinct to protect his Sentinel had risen in him unreservedly. It had been so strong and so instinctual he could do nothing about it. Protect the Sentinel was all that he had thought about.

And he had done just that. 

Jim was alive.

Nothing was more important than that. Then why did Blair feel this way: Like he was cold and empty inside. It shouldn't feel like this, he shouldn't feel like this.

But he did. And he wasn't sure how he was going to get through it.

"How are you feeling now, Chief?" Jim asked after they were safety back at the loft and Blair was sat quietly on the sofa. 

"Like I killed someone," the anthropologist replied.

"You saved my life."

Blair nodded he understood that and he didn't regret that. He was remembering how he felt when he pulled the trigger. He hadn't felt anything but instinct, his only thoughts were to save Jim's life.

There was a tangible atmosphere in the loft as Jim put water on to boil in the kettle. Blair had had a shock and Jim needed to make a fuss of his Guide so he made tea. As he worked in the kitchen he didn't know what to say to his partner. He didn't want to utter meaningless platitudes that his friend would see through. So the detective remained silent. 

"I didn't think it would feel like this," Blair finally said breaking the quiet.

"Like what?" the Sentinel asked, glad his friend was talking.

"Strange," Blair began as he tried to put his thoughts into words. "Powerful in a weird way. He was alive this morning and now he's dead."

"He chose to rob that jewellers. If he hadn't decided to do that I wouldn't have had to respond as a cop and you wouldn't have had to do what you did."

"You mean murder a man."

"No!!" Jim replied firmly. "Don't ever think that. Blair..." Jim began as he sat down beside his friend on the sofa. "I'm rather glad I'm alive right now and I wouldn't be if it wasn't for you. I can't believe I let that creep get the upper hand like that. I must be getting slow or something."

The kettle started to boil then and Jim got up to make the tea.

"Jim, you're the best cop I know. But don't tell the others I said that."

"I won't," Jim replied with a grin, "as long as you knock off the self recriminations."

Blair nodded but knowing it wouldn't be as easy as that. Every time he closed his eyes he felt the gun's trigger moving and the loud boom as the bullet left the chamber of Jim's gun. He could feel the gun kick back from the power of the discharge, as the bullet propelled forward into the robber's body.

"Here drink your camomile tea." 

Jim handed his Guide the mug and Blair took a sip, it was hot and sweet. Jim had slipped some honey into it. It was better unsweetened but his friend meant well. 

"Why don't you go back to work," Blair said after half of his tea was gone and they were sat in a companionable silence. Blair felt guilty that Jim was sat with him. "I'm alright. I feel much better now."

"No, it's fine."

"Really," Blair insisted. "You're making me feel worse by you missing work man. You could be out there catching bad guys instead of sat here babysitting me."

Jim glanced at his watch it was nearly 11am. 

"I'm good for a bit longer."

Blair was still pale looking and Jim's instinct was to stay.

"I'm going to lie down for a bit and I have some reading I can do later. I'll be fine honestly."

The detective was torn between going and staying. He didn't want to crowd his friend. Blair would feel better after sleeping. Rest was always the body's best medicine.

"Okay," Jim relented. "I want you to rest. Call me if you want to talk or need anything okay?"

"I promise," Blair replied laying his head back on the back of the sofa. He really did feel tired which was weird considering he'd slept for nearly six hours the previous night.

"I'll phone you later."

"Okay," replied Blair as he finished the rest of his tea. He was actually quite enjoying the camomile with the honey.

Then Jim was gone and the loft was quiet and the grad student was alone with his thoughts. He wanted to shout after Jim to come back as he realised he didn't want to be alone after all. But Jim had a job to do and he had kept him away from it for a few hours already. He hoped there weren't too many questions at the station about what had happened earlier that morning. 

Blair went and lay down on his bed. He rolled over to face the wall and closed his eyes. But immediately there was a flashback of the gun going off and the robber's startled face as he realised he'd been shot. Then his body lying on the floor as he lay dying and Blair still had the smoking gun in his hand. The metal feeling warm in his hands as he gripped it tightly. 

Jim was alive.

He kept telling himself that over and over again. After an hour of trying to sleep he got up feeling restless and unrefreshed. He really needed to get out of the loft; it was feeling too confined and claustrophobic. Blair thought about going to the station but didn't feel like having to endure the sympathetic words and actions of the officers there. So Blair decided to go for a drive instead to clear away the cobwebs. He could think and get it all into perspective and then he would feel better and positive again. 

Blair hastily left Jim a note in case he got back to the loft first, he got a few supplies and left. He wasn't sure where he was going only that he had to get away. He jumped into the Volvo and just drove. Concentrating on driving kept his mind from repeatedly going over the events of the morning. After a while he realised he was already on the outskirts of Cascade and knew a place ahead of him where he could go. He and Jim had been there before on a fishing weekend. There were lots of open spaces there, he could channel nature and that would take away the negative vibes from the shooting.

Blair shivered as he remembered what had happened.

He, Blair Sandburg, had shot a man and killed him.

The city disappeared in the distance and within a couple of hours Blair was following the signs for Cascade National Park. He parked the Volvo, grabbed his backpack and started walking up a trail. He didn't walk for long and found himself on the top of a cliff. Looking down, and immediately regretting it, he saw an eighty foot drop to the river. Looking back up he checked out the view instead. It was stunning, mountains stood resolute in the distance with trees and greenery everywhere. Though it rained in western Washington a lot, the payback was the beautiful lush vegetation they had. A view like that soothed the soul.

Blair took in a lungful of the clean air and immediately felt better. Yeah this had been a good idea. He took off his back pack and put it on the ground by his feet. He rummaged inside for a bottle of water and stood to take a long drink. Blair decided he had better phone Jim and tell him where he was, his note was vague as he had had no idea where he was heading to when he'd left the loft. He rummaged inside his backpack again and located his cellphone. He quickly realised there wasn't a signal. He put the phone back in the backpack and gazed at the view again. 

After a few moments the anthropologist's thoughts became dark again as he remembered what he'd done to save Jim's life. One life for another. It was the robber's fault for pointing a gun at his partner but it still made him feel sad again. He glanced at the view as he blinked away the tears that had suddenly stung his eyes, as he tried to compose himself as he took a deep calming breath. That view really was spectacular.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim sat at his desk trying to sort out his paperwork. He had reviewed his notes on the bouncer murder but had no more thoughts on who had perpetrated it. The paperwork was relentless and it was astonishing just how much a detective had to deal with. He tried the loft again but there was no answer. So he tried Blair's cellphone again and got a message that the person was out of range. That was strange. 

Jim was starting to get a bad feeling. He knew he shouldn't have left his friend alone. He had seemed to be holding it together but who knew what was going on in that academic's mind. 

He decided to leave work early, not being able to concentrate anyway. He drove home and noticed that the Volvo was gone from outside the loft. Blair was out. He was supposed to be resting. Where had he gone? He went inside and up to the apartment. He saw Blair's hastily scribbled note about going for a drive and that he wouldn't be long. But when had he left? 

This didn't feel right. He tried the anthropologist's cellphone again but there was still no answer. 

/Where the hell are you, Chief?/ Jim thought. For the next two hours Jim tried to phone Blair's cellphone constantly and in between times phoned every friend of his roommate's he could think of. No one had seen him all day.

Finally at 10pm Jim called Simon. Blair still hadn't returned. The cops knew a missing person's report couldn't be placed until 48 hours had elapsed. Simon tried to allay Jim's fears that Blair was just out and had forgotten the time. But they both knew the captain's word were empty, as he knew what had transpired that morning and how vulnerable and upset the grad student would be feeling. The captain was trying to keep Jim focused. 

Jim was blaming himself for leaving his friend alone. Alone when he should have been talking to him, comforting him and reassuring him. Instead he'd left him and gone to work. Damn. 

Finally the captain told Jim that if Blair hadn't returned in the morning he'd put an APB out on him. It was the best they could do. 

Jim hadn't eaten when he'd gotten in from work and he still didn't feel like eating anything. All he could think of was his roommate and how he was going to kill him when he got back. He went to bed before 11pm but lay in bed awake with his cellphone; his Sentinel hearing listening for the Volvo's distinctive engine and his roommate's heartbeat in the corridor outside the loft. Everything was silent. 

He tried Blair's cellphone for the umpteenth time and got the 'out of range' message and finally closed his eyes. He tossed and turned most of the night and eventually fell asleep at 4am, totally exhausted. He was awake at 6am and got up unable to rest. His senses told him his was the only heartbeat in the loft. Blair hadn't returned. 

The loft seemed unnaturally quiet as Jim got up and showered and then made coffee. He knew he had to eat to keep his strength up so he could search for his friend, but his stomach didn't want anything. He made some plain toast and sat in silence as he ate mechanically not tasting it. His eyes randomly moved to the French doors that were closed. He had lived alone for some time since he and Carolyn had divorced and he had enjoyed the solitude and the quiet. But everything had changed with the arrival of the grad student and he realised he didn't want things to ever go back to the way they had been before. Blair was his Guide. Blair was his friend. Blair was his life.

Out of habit Jim tried the cellphone again but wasn't surprised to find it wasn't answered by his roommate. He then tried the local hospitals to see if he had been brought in but no one matching Blair's description had been admitted. That was a good thing, at least he wasn't hurt. 

Jim was at Police Headquarters by 7.30am, checking if the morgue had received any male Caucasian bodies overnight. Though the people in the morgue knew Blair and he would have been immediately informed if his body had been brought in. But checking this remote possibility he felt like he had been doing something constructive, sitting and waiting alone at the loft was driving him insane.

A short time later Simon walked into the Bullpen.

He took one look at his detective and knew Sandburg was still AWOL.

"You get any sleep last night, Jim?" the captain asked.

"Some," Jim replied in a clipped tone. 

"You look like twelve miles of bad road," Simon observed, noting Jim's haggard appearance. 

The detective didn't respond he was still checking his computer for any possible leads. "Okay, Jim, we're going to put an APB out on Sandburg and his Volvo."

"Thanks, sir."

"Try not to worry, Jim, we'll find the kid."

"I know, sir, and that's when I get five minutes alone with him."

Simon tried not to think of the implication of that sentence. He knew Jim wouldn't hurt Sandburg but he also knew he wouldn't want a ticked off Sentinel on his case. 

The morning went slowly. Jim tried to concentrate on his paperwork but the words and numbers weren't making a lot of sense, it could have been in Greek for all he knew. He rubbed his eyes and took a swig of too cold coffee. Then he noticed Simon was on his feet talking animatedly into his phone. Unashamedly he dialled up his Sentinel hearing and listened in to what his captain was saying.

"Yes…that's right a green Volvo licence number 743 SFU..... in a car park…. Yes. We'll be right there."

Jim saw the captain put down his phone and emerged from his office. He quickly moved to the detective's desk.

Jim was on his feet instantly.

"What is it, Simon?" the captain of Major Crimes didn't stop to wonder whether his detective had been listening to his conversation, instead he gave him what news he had found out.

"Sandburg's car's been found."

"Where?" asked Jim.

"Cascade National Forest."

"What the hell's his car doing there?"

"Beats me. A ranger found it this morning and reported it in. They have a no parking overnight rule in all of the parks' parking areas. As soon as he reported it, it flagged up straight away."

"Any sign of Blair?" Jim asked.

"No," Simon replied. "The car was empty."

"Damn, let's go, sir," Jim said making a move for the door.

"I'd better drive," Simon said as they made their way to the elevator. 

Jim furious punched the down button to make the elevator speed up its arrival.

"I think I'd better drive, sir," Jim replied. "So I can't think on what I'm going to do to Sandburg when I get my hands on him."

Simon smiled at his friend's offhanded attitude. He knew Jim was as scared as hell as to what had happened to the grad student. Who knew what had been going on through his mind after the shooting. He wouldn't think about that now, first they had to find him.

The elevator arrived and both men got in.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim parked the Ford next to the Volvo and quickly got out. The car park was relatively empty, the only other vehicle the ranger's truck. It was a fine sunny day with hardly a cloud in the sky. The scenery would have been amazing if the detective had have been interested. Instead he moved quickly to his partner's car with Simon beside him.

They inspected the car. It was locked, with no signs of any attempted break-in to it. They looked on the ground round the car; there was no sign of a struggle. Then Jim heard someone approaching and for a moment he thought it was Blair. He turned to see a ranger walking quickly their way.

"Are you the ranger that found the car?" Jim asked as he removed his shield from his jacket's pocket.

"I am."

"I'm Detective Jim Ellison," he said shaking hands with the ranger "and this is my captain, Simon Banks."

"Ranger Max Tuckamore," he replied shaking Simon's hand. "When I reported the licence number, I was phoned back immediately and told an APB was out on the car and not to touch anything."

"The car belongs to my partner," Jim added, trying to keep his voice even and not show the distress he was feeling inside.

"I found something else," the ranger added and Jim's heart hammered in his chest. "I followed the main track from here which goes along the top of the cliff. I found an abandoned backpack."

"Did you touch it?" Simon asked.

"No, I came straight back here. I'll show you where it is."

The three men walked along the track to the location of the backpack. It was sat on the ground near to the cliff's edge. Jim recognised it as Blair's straight away. He and Simon hunkered down next to it. Jim searched the backpack and soon located Blair's cellphone. That's why Blair hadn't answered; he had become separated from his phone.

Looking round the men noticed a slight mark on the edge of the cliff, where the soil was freshly moved and a piece of turf was missing.

"Ah, Ranger Tuckamore could you go back to the car park and wait for the other officers to arrive and direct any forensic officers up here," Simon commanded.

"Right away," the ranger replied and started to walk back to the car park.

"What do you see?" Simon asked.

Jim was peering down the steep slope to the raging river below. "There's skid marks all the way down. Oh damn…"

"What is it, Jim?"

"I see blood, Simon, below on some of the rocks on the side of the cliff. Blair went over the edge here."

"You can't draw to conclusions yet, Jim."

"It's the only answer. He wouldn't have left his backpack and there's no sign of a struggle, Blair came here after the shooting, probably to process what had happened in his mind. You know how he is," and Simon nodded his head at that. "He must have slipped and gone over the edge."

Jim was already following the river downstream with his Sentinel vision but couldn't see anything of Blair or any sign that he had gotten out of the river anywhere near their vicinity.

"It's too hairy to go down here but we have to follow the river downstream, Simon."

"Jim, it's all cliff tops for miles."

"I know but Blair's down there somewhere."

"We'll get a chopper airborne, they'll be able to search a larger area from the air than we can."

The captain put a comforting hand on his detective's shoulder but Jim didn't notice. All his concentration was taken up with scanning and rescanning the river. His Guide was down there somewhere and he had to find him. Risking a zone out the Sentinel pushed his sight to the limit, but saw no clue as to the location of his friend. Then he tried his hearing in case Blair was calling for help, but there was no sound other than the background noise of a woodland area. Birds, insects, wildlife but no Blair.

The Sentinel turned to gaze back at the river, wondering how warm it was. Probably not very, plus it was forming white peaks all over the surface from invisible boulders hidden deceptively beneath. If Blair had gone into the water here it wouldn't have been a very pleasant journey to reach the bank and safety.

Despondent the detective turned to his friend and colleague. 

"Don't worry, Jim, we'll find him," Simon replied, trying to buck his friend up. He could see the pain etched onto his face and in his eyes. 

Jim had lead butterflies in his stomach, he just hoped that when they did find him – he was still alive.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Part 2

"Abbot Jeremy, come quickly!!" the excited monk shouted as he ran down the corridor to the leader of St. Sebastian's monastery's office like room. It housed a desk and a crude phone, civilisation had reached the monastery but only barely. A monk's life had always consisted of not having material possessions or wealth and that hadn't changed into the 20th Century.

Brother William knocked once and burst into the abbot's room without waiting for permission to enter.

"What is it, Brother William?" Jeremy asked, he didn't chastise the monk on his slip of protocol as he could see he was concerned about something. He was animated, slightly out of breath and his cheeks were slightly flushed.

"There's…a man," he paused to breathe.

"Man? What man?"

"A man… in the…garden."

"An outsider?"

Brother William nodded. Jeremy got to his feet and started towards the door. They didn't have many visitors to the monastery and when they did it wasn't always for social reasons. The local town mostly left them alone to their contemplations and solitary life, but every now and again a curious teenager would wander into their world. Mostly they wondered what the monks did all day and it was only harmless curiosity, but occasionally it was more than that. Jeremy always liked to know if there were any strangers around. In this modern world even churches were not safe from having things stolen from within their confines – and that included monasteries. 

"Gather as many of the brothers as you can find and meet me in the garden!" the abbot ordered.

Jeremy rushed outside and over to the garden. Instead of finding a curious teenager as he had suspected, he saw that a man was lying face down in the vegetable garden. Brother William in his haste had not told him that the intruder was possibly hurt and in need of attention. 

The abbot rushed over to the supine man. His first impression was that the man was alive but unconscious. He had long, curly brown hair just like another man he knew. It couldn't be.

Jeremy turned the man over and gasped as he instantly recognised the unconscious figure. Blair Sandburg. But this wasn't the man that had visited his monastery nearly a year ago now with his friend, the detective from Cascade. His clothes were wet and dishevelled. This man was injured, there was a cut on his temple, and his clothes were ripped and covered in dirt and blood. There were grazes on his hands and blood on his leg which was visible through the torn jeans. 

Jeremy looked up when he saw four of the brothers rushing towards him. Noting that Marcus, Theodore and Frederick were amongst the brothers along with their newest conscript Brother William. Brother William had replaced the late Brother Christopher who had been murdered during Blair's previous visit.

"My goodness it's Blair Sandburg," Brother Marcus said in alarm as he arrived with the others. 

"Who?" William asked.

"Someone we all know well," Jeremy replied. "Help me get him inside."

Many hands soon picked up the unconscious anthropologist and carried him inside. They lay him down on a bed in one of the monks' cells.

"William," Jeremy commanded immediately taking charge. "Go to the medical store and find some bandages and antiseptic. Then bring some boiling water from the kitchen. Those cuts need seeing too."

William knew to obey his abbot immediately and rushed from the room. 

"Marcus, help me undress him," Jeremy said "and get those wet clothes off of him."

"What can we do?" Frederick asked of him and Theodore. 

"Nothing for now. I'll let you know if I need your assistance," the abbot replied.

The two monks left the room as Jeremy and Marcus started their ministrations in earnest.

They removed Blair's jacket and shirt revealing a large number of bruises on his front and back. Marcus gasped when he saw them. He wondered if he had been beaten up by someone. But knowing the river wasn't that far from their grounds, and it hadn't been raining that day, that he reasoned that he had been in there. They both pondered what Blair would be doing in the river especially as that river ran fast and hard. Then they removed his bloody jeans and saw multiple grazes and bruises on both legs. Immediately they could see he was cold and shivering. Though it was May the weather could still be on the cool side especially at night.

"Brother Blair," Marcus said to the young man but there was no response. They covered him with a blanket and waited for William's return. 

When he did return the two monks set about cleaning the young man's cuts and grazes: The wound on the temple being the worst of them. The others were soon cleaned and would heal on their own. Witch hazel was applied to the bruises.

"Perhaps we should call for outside assistance," Marcus said as Blair hadn't stirred once since being found in their garden.

The abbot was more reticent to have strangers at the monastery. "I think we should wait a while before calling someone. He's not in any danger and his breathing and pulse are strong. We can care for him here."

"That cut on his head concerns me," Marcus said. "He might have concussion."

"Perhaps you're right," the abbot conceded knowing that Blair's health was the main consideration, but Marcus noticed he didn't make a move to leave the cell, there was a thoughtful expression on his face as he gazed at the unconscious man.

"You're wondering what he was doing here in this condition aren't you?" Marcus voiced their thoughts out loud but the abbot didn't respond. "He looks like he's been beaten up, Jeremy. Who would do that to Blair?"

Jeremy shook his head as he didn't have any answers. "The last time Blair was here two of our order died and a third turned out to be a murderer and hoodlum working for the man who wanted you dead, Marcus."

Marcus had had a really hard time coming to terms with the fact that his past life had finally caught up with him when he had once been known as Jackie Kozinski. Every day he tried to atone for that past life by doing God's work and being a good person. 

"Blair works with that Cascade detective and Police work is a dangerous profession. We can ask Blair what happened to him when he wakes up," Jeremy added.

Jeremy could see the sad expression on the brother's face. "I'm sorry, old friend, to dredge up the past."

"It's okay, Jeremy, I've known for a long time that you can't keep running from your past forever." He glanced down at Blair's pale and still form. "Perhaps we should watch him tonight and see how he is in the morning. If he hasn't woken by then, perhaps we should call for medical assistance."

Jeremy nodded "We can take it in turns to sit with him, make sure he's okay."

"No, I'd like to sit with him. Blair's special to me and I'd like to care for him."

"He's a special young man, Marcus." That was high praise coming from the abbot. "Okay, Marcus, but if you get tired or want a break one of the other brothers will spell you."

"I know," replied Marcus as Jeremy went to the door. "Jeremy, could you get William to bring me my Bible. I'd like to sit and read a bit as Blair sleeps."

Jeremy nodded as he slipped through the door. 

The kindly monk glanced down at the sleeping and injured man, unable to stop himself wondering what trouble he'd gotten himself into this time. He made sure Blair had enough blankets covering him and sat down to wait for him to wake. William arrived a short while later with his Bible. Marcus took the Bible gratefully, it was his source of comfort and had been for many a year since he had left his old life behind. He opened it randomly and started to read and then sought out a few favourite passages. As he read he glanced over at the sleeping form, hoping that one of the times he looked over he would see two blue eyes staring back at him.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blair was feeling warm and content. Part of him wanted to wake up from the quiet, comfortable place he was now in, but another part of him screamed to stay put. There was no pain here, no regret or solemnity, only warmth and pleasantness. But he could hear something, a sound that was familiar and also pleasant. Tentatively he went towards that sound. It grew louder and closer with each passing second. It was a man's voice and it was steadily getting louder.

"So do not fear, for I am with you; do not be dismayed for I am your God. I will strengthen you and help you; I will uphold you with my righteous right hand... Blair can you hear me?" Brother Marcus said as he put aside his Bible, he had noticed that the young man had started to stir. His head had moved slightly and he moaned quietly, though his eyes had remained closed. "Blair."

"Jim?" the quiet voice asked from the bed.

"No, Blair, it's Brother Marcus. You're at St. Sebastian's Monastery. Blair…. Blair…."

"Jim?!" the voice was confused and still small, his eyes still closed.

"Can you wake up now, Blair?" Marcus asked.

Blair was nearly conscious but the last part was the hardest. The voice was familiar but it wasn't the voice he was expecting to hear. Something was wrong. 

"Blair, Blair. Wake up for me, Blair," Marcus continued gently coaxing the young man back.

Finally Blair's eyes flickered and then opened. They didn't focus on anything for a few seconds, as they adjusted to their surroundings. Then they moved to the side and the blue eyes stopped on Marcus.

"Hello, Blair."

"Br-other Marcus, is that you?" asked Blair as he tried to move and then winced as pain lanced through his body. Everywhere hurt.

"Lie still, Blair, you're hurt."

"Where am I?"

"St. Sebastian's."

"How'd I get here?"

"That's what we're hoping you could tell us."

"I was… I don't remember where I was. What time is it?"

"Nearly 4pm."

"Where's Jim?"

"You were alone when we found you."

"Found me, where?"

"Brother William found you collapsed in the garden, earlier this afternoon."

"Brother William?"

"He's new here, replaced Brother Chris…." And Marcus left the rest of the late monk's name trail away. Blair would remember what had happened to the monk the last time he had been here with the detective. 

Blair closed his eyes again and Marcus knew he was remembering that time. Blair forced his mind to the present. Where was Jim? Blair was concerned for his friend. What had happened? Why had they become separated? Was Jim alright? Blair's head was pounding along with the rest of his body's aches and pains. His right thigh in particular was throbbing annoyingly. 

"I was with Jim, it was morning," Blair stated tentatively starting to remember "and we answered a call to a jewellery store. I don't remember much after that. I was at the loft on my own and then I left. I drove to Cascade National Park by myself. Why would I do that in the middle of the week? It doesn't make sense. Then I remember falling in the river."

"That explains your injuries," the brother added, glad that his friend hadn't been beaten up as first thought. 

"I was walking through the trees, it was dark."

"You probably fell into the river yesterday. It's a good walk from here," Marcus said.

"I don't really remember walking here." Blair added.

Blair's thoughts went back to the jewellery store. He was in the truck watching Jim and then he got out of the truck. Then things started coming back to him in flashes. The dead body lying on the floor of the jewellers as they drove by afterwards. Jim being overpowered by the robber. Blair holding Jim's gun in his hand. Blair closed his eyes as the memories assaulted his battered brain. The recoil from the gun as a bullet left the chamber. Blair knew he had fired the gun.

"No!!" he screamed suddenly, as he remembered what he'd done. 

A man was dead. He'd killed him.

"No!" he cried again. "No!!"

He didn't want it to be true, but he knew it was.

"Blair, what is it?" Marcus asked concerned, he could hear the anguish in the young man's voice and he touched his shoulder entreatingly. Blair closed his eyes and turned away, too caught up in the memory to answer the brother. "You must be in pain. I'll get you something. I won't be long."

The room was quiet after Marcus had left and it took Blair a few moments to calm himself. He glanced round the room and realised he was in one of the monks' cells. He tried to sit up but his whole body felt bruised and sore and the room undulated wildly. Blair lay back again and closed his eyes, trying to fight off the nausea that was threatening to expel the contents of his stomach though he had no idea when he had last eaten. He took a couple of cleansing breaths and regained control.

Jim must be so worried about him right about now. He hadn't told him where he was going only that he wouldn't be long. His car and backpack were still at the park. Did Jim know he was missing? How long had he been missing? Marcus said he'd only been here a few hours but that he probably fell in the river yesterday. Was the robbery only yesterday? Should he get them to phone Jim and tell him he was okay? The anthropologist knew the monastery had a phone for emergencies but part of him didn't want to return to civilisation and his obligations just yet. There was a part of Blair that wanted to curl up in the bed and never face the outside world ever again. Even Jim. Here things were simpler and quieter. But then Blair couldn't think anymore his headache was pounding a symphony in his brain. 

Marcus arrived a few moments later with a cup in one hand and some hot soup in a cup in the other. Marcus told Blair that the tea contained yarrow and white willow. Blair didn't think the soup would stay down but the cup, containing a natural pain killing solution for his headache, was welcome. Marcus helped him drink it, though it was slightly bitter, Blair drank it gratefully. He hadn't realised how thirsty he was until he had started drinking.

When he'd drunk the medicine and had a few sips of the soup Blair had had enough, he was tired and sank back onto the bed. He couldn't keep his eyes open as Marcus changed the dressing on his forehead. Blair's whole body felt bruised and battered. He tried to move in the bed but every movement caused some part of his body to ache. So he settled where he was and was asleep in moments.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim and Simon followed the Cowlitz river for miles, first on foot and then by helicopter. The detective's Sentinel eyes scoured the land both sides of the river as they followed it to the sea. There was no sign of Blair. No bits of clothing, footprints or any sign that someone had emerged from the river. Jim risked a zone out as he relentlessly looked for the slightest sign, no matter how minute. They saw search parties walking the length of the river on both sides. 

When the helicopter reached the sea, via the Columbia River, Jim's heart sank. 

"We must have missed something," the detective said and glanced back over to the pilot.

"Fly back up river, I want to check again."

Simon knew it was hopeless and with the added help of Jim's Sentinel vision, they would have seen something if there was something there to be seen. There was no way Jim's enhanced sight would have missed a clue if Sandburg had left one. Both Simon and Jim were not ready to give up on the young man just yet. They weren't ready to lose him just yet. They could fly up and down the river all day if need be. The Police captain wasn't ready yet to believe that their friend was dead. He knew it wasn't looking favourable but he also knew what facing that reality would do to his friend.

The helicopter did a 180 degree turn and started flying back up the swollen river.

Daylight was starting to fade and the pilot told them they had to call off the search for the night. The helicopter was getting low on fuel and they wouldn't be able to see at night anyway. Jim wanted to tell him that he could see well at any time, day or night, but he knew the pilot was right. 

They'd been up and down the river for hours and there was nothing. Deep down Jim knew there was nothing to find. Blair wasn't in the river; Jim knew he would know if he was. Sandburg had managed to get out somewhere along its length but had left no clue as to where that location had been.

Jim glanced forlornly at the river as the helicopter peeled away. He knew Blair wasn't dead, he was sure he would feel it if he were. He was out there somewhere and he swore to himself that he would find his Guide. He wouldn't rest until he did. Whatever the outcome. He would face that if he had to. For the moment, and for as long as he could, he was going with the assumption that he would find his Guide safe and well.

Jim entered the loft. He and Simon had gone their separate ways after the helicopter had landed. Jim had driven Simon home, though the captain wanted to return to the loft with Jim, not wanting his detective to be alone. But Jim didn't want to be around anyone at that moment. He wouldn't be good company and he didn't want to make the effort with Simon, as his friend, or especially as his captain.

Night had already fallen, as they had searched until the light had started to fade. The loft was dark but Jim didn't switch on any lights, he wanted the solitude of the darkness. He didn't feel like eating but made himself a sandwich; he could see perfectly in the darkness as he worked in silence in the kitchen. He needed to remain strong so he could find his friend. He sat at the table and ate in silence, all too aware that his friend wasn't there.

Then he moved to the sofa and stared into the darkness wondering if Sandburg was okay and if he was hurt out there somewhere wondering where he was. Waiting for him to find him and save him. Blair would have contacted him by now if he'd been able to, so the detective's mind concluded that he was either incapacitated, that thought alone caused the Sentinel's insides to lurch with alarm and despair, or nowhere near a phone. 

"Damnit, Sandburg, where are you!" he cried out, his head sinking into his hands in despair.

The Cascade detective couldn't stop thinking about the backpack lying abandoned on the top of the cliff. He knew some of the people connected with the search who knew about the circumstances of that day, thought that Sandburg had thrown himself off the cliff unable to cope with the shooting. Jim knew different, Jim knew he had slipped, not jumped. The detective didn't care how his friend had fallen off the cliff, all he could think about was the blood he had spotted down that slope and that the river water was damn cold. When Blair had reached the bank and pulled himself out he would have been cold. And he would have reached the bank and pulled himself out, there was no other recourse. Now it was the second night he had been missing, it was dark and he would be even colder and hungry and getting weaker every second. 

Jim was frustrated that he couldn't do anything more until first light and that was hours away. His Sentinel abilities were a gift and yet they were of no help to the one person he wanted them to be an asset to. He might as well not have them for all the use they were, if they couldn't help find the one person his heart needed to be found. The Sentinel felt exhausted from searching and from the constant worry. He dragged his aching legs up the steps to his bedroom. He wasn't sure he would be able to sleep but he went to bed anyway.

Hoping that the day came quickly and the following day he would find his Guide safe and well.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Darkness descended on the monastery. The majority of the monks were in their cells reading before going to sleep, their daily duties over with. 

Blair was asleep in his bed, he hadn't woken again after he'd had the natural medicine and the soup. His body was exhausted from the ordeal in the river, but now his body fought the exhaustion, exposure and the loss of blood and it wasn't winning. 

Marcus slipped back quietly back into the room. He had left Blair alone for a short while as he took care of his own duties at the monastery. When he entered the cell again he noticed his friend's flushed appearance and the perspiration on his brow. He touched his forehead and felt the heat that was emerging.

"Fever," he whispered to himself.

Brother Marcus left the room and quickly went to the cupboard in the kitchen where they kept their stores of medicines and remedies, which they made from the herbs they grew on site. He picked yarrow and made an infusion. Then he drew some cold water that came from the spring below the monastery's main building, and picked up some wash cloths. He went quickly back to Blair's room. If he couldn't reduce the fever by morning Abbot Jeremy would ring for assistance and Blair would be taken to a hospital. Marcus wasn't sure when he would see the young man again. Marcus wanted Blair to be well but he wasn't sure that modern hospitals always had the answers. They seemed too large and dispassionate to care about the individual. Blair would get as good, if not better, treatment at the monastery as he would at any sterile hospital.

"Blair," Marcus said as he knelt beside Blair's bed. "Drink this."

"Mmm," Blair said not really coming fully awake. Marcus raised the young man's head off the pillow and put the cup to his lips, pouring a little of the herb concoction into his mouth, so as not to choke him but hoping he would swallow involuntarily. Blair did and the monk repeated the process a couple more times until he was satisfied he had swallowed enough to help him fight the fever.

Marcus dipped the wash cloth into the cool water and then proceeded to cool down his friend. When the cloth became warmed he repeated the process, moving down to his chest and arms. Blair didn't move or object to the coldness being placed on his skin. He slept on as the monk continued his ministrations.

Marcus sat by his bed dozing slightly in the chair, his hand supporting his head.

"No…. stop…." Blair uttered, his eyes were still closed but he was agitated.

Marcus started and looked at his friend. "Shh," he soothed wiping the warm face with a cool cloth. "It's alright, Blair, I'm just trying to help you."

"Chief, give me…. the gun…" Blair uttered in his delirium and the monk gasped. "Is he…dead?…had to shoot…going to shoot you…had to…save… Jim…."

"Shh, Blair, it's alright," Brother Marcus soothed. "Oh, Blair, what have they done to you?" he whispered to himself.

"Jim…" Blair said again. "Where…are…you? Okay…have to be….okay."

"It's okay, Blair, Jim's alright," the monk cooed though he wasn't sure whether he was or not, he just had to say that to placate his friend who was getting more agitated by the fever every moment. 

Marcus felt Blair's forehead it felt warmer than before, Blair's fever was up. The monk checked the wounds and grazes but they all seemed fine, none seemed hot to the touch or infected. 

"Blair, drink this," Marcus said trying to get his friend to drink some more of the fever reducing medicine. "It will help you."

Blair tried to move his head away from the cup but the monk was insistent and managed to coax him to swallow a couple more mouthfuls. 

Marcus went quietly to the kitchen to draw more cold water. It was now the early hours of the morning and the monastery was dark. He used a candle to light his way and moved mouse quiet, so as not to disturb any of the other monks. The other monks would be getting up in a few hours to begin their day by praying and observing two hours of silence between 4 and 6 am. Marcus wasn't sure if he would get any sleep before having to start his day again. Not that he could sleep his concern for the man in his care overruling any fatigue he might be feeling.

The monk drew the water and went back to Blair's room as quickly as he could. Marcus cooled his friend again with the cloth soaked in the cold water. Blair didn't move or moan at the coldness on his skin. His face still felt hot and he wasn't sure if the medicine he had given him would be enough. He prayed that the young man would be strong enough to overcome this ordeal that had been placed in his path.

A short time later and Blair began to shiver violently, the fever taking a different turn. The young man's teeth chattered as his body shook from cold and yet when Marcus felt his forehead it was still hot to the touch.

Marcus put an extra blanket on top of Blair, trying to keep in what warmth he could to the shivering form.

"Come on, Blair, you can beat this," the monk said as he sat by the bed and prayed that his friend had the strength to shake off this sickness.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

There was a loud knock at the loft's front door. As Jim approached the door he could plainly smell Simon's cigars.

"Morning, Jim," Simon said as the detective let him in. "You had breakfast?" 

Jim nodded. He'd manage a few bites of toast, but his appetite had deserted him as his concern for his missing partner was too strong for him to think about mundane things like eating.

"Jim," Simon began his voice sober and his face grim.

"What is it, Simon?" the detective sensed that his captain wanted to tell him something but was reticent to do so. The hesitation was worrying the Sentinel. 

"A body's been found downstream of where Blair went missing."

"It's not Blair, sir," Jim countered immediately.

"The description fits Sandburg's general description," Simon continued relaying the information he'd been told.

"So do a lot of guys. It's not Blair. It's not!"

"The body's been taken to the hospital in Toledo, about 100 miles south of Cascade." Jim had started pacing as Simon continued. "That's why I'm here to drive us to Toledo. So we can ID the body."

"No, Simon, that will just waste time. It's not him." And the Sentinel shook his head in denial not liking the images his mind were conjuring up of a lifeless Sandburg lying cold and alone on a mortuary slab.

Simon knew his friend would react this way which was why he decided to drive to the loft and tell him in person. He didn't deserve to hear such news on the phone. He knew the actuality of his young ride alongs' death would hit him hard. Hell he didn't want to believe it either. With Naomi who knows where, Jim was the closest to family the kid had and the captain was Jim's friend as well as Blair's, he didn't want his friend to face this on his own. If it was Blair, he wasn't sure how his detective would react. 

When Simon had first taken over at Major Crimes, Jim had been a real pain in the ass; surly and arrogant with a real chip on his shoulder. Partnering him with Jack Prendergast had helped some and then when all this Sentinel business had started Simon could see all the hard work being undone again. But Blair had helped Jim in so many different ways. He not only understood what Jim was going through and helped him focus and use his gifts; but he also centred him and that was the hardest part of all. The captain wasn't sure if Sandburg's loss would undo all the progress Jim had made and he would regress back to that unapproachable and aloof man he had once been. 

In fact the whole of Major Crimes would miss Blair's larger than life character and zest for life.

They drove in Simon's car to Toledo. The captain wouldn't let the Sentinel drive. The detective looked a wreck. Dark circles under his eyes testament to the lack of sleep he'd had. The drive was long and Jim was silent the whole time. Simon gave his detective a few surreptitious glances every now and again; the pain was visibly etched on the ex-Ranger's face for all to see. Simon wanted to say something to ease the detective's pain but he didn't know what to, as any sort of platitude would sound meaningless and inane. 

After what seemed like forever they arrived in Toledo. The place wasn't large but there was a good sized hospital. Simon had directions and they were soon parked in the car park. They went inside and the captain introduced them and showed the clerk on duty his badge. They were expected and were shown to the morgue. Everything seemed far away and surreal to the Sentinel, as Simon took charge and asked to see the body that had been found in the river.

Before he knew what was happening he and Simon were stood in a white, austere room beside a white enshrouded body. They were left alone in the room and there wasn't a sound. Jim wasn't prepared for this. How had it come to this? In a strange city about to look at a corpse that was thought to be Sandburg's. How had the situation gotten so out of control so quickly?

"Are you ready, Jim?" Simon asked. 

Simon's voice shook the Sentinel from his reveries but he didn't respond. His thoughts were of a future without his Guide by his side, the prospect of handling his abilities on his own, the empty loft, the grief and sadness he would feel. It was almost too much to bear, then he realised Simon was talking to him. 

"Detective, I asked you a question."

Jim nodded not trusting his voice and saw his captain reach over and grasp the sheet. Jim held his breath as the captain pulled it slowly back and the two officers glanced down at the body.

"It's not him," Jim uttered the relief evident in his voice. "It's not him, Simon."

Simon breathed a sigh of relief as he tried to keep his composure as a captain should with his subordinate. Even though that subordinate was his friend.

Both men also felt a twinge of sadness. It was still a dead man and he did bear some resemblance to Sandburg, he was roughly the same age and build. This was someone's son, brother, friend. Someone would be mourning him but Jim had to admit he was glad it wasn't him. Though if that sounded selfish he didn't care.

"I told you, Simon, it wouldn't be him."

"I know, Jim, I know," and Simon reached up and put a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder the relief transparent on his face.

"We've got to find Sandburg, Simon."

"I know, Jim. Let's get back to Cascade."

"We've got to search the riverbanks again. Do something!!" Jim exploded.

"There are teams searching he's not there, Jim. They'll let us know if they find anything."

As they walked back to Simon's car the captain made a call on his cellphone.

"Hi, H, it's not him."

Simon could hear H tell the others in the Bullpen that it wasn't Sandburg's body that had been found. Simon could hear the relief permeate around the room and the captain smiled at how important Blair was to all of them.

"We're on our way back to Cascade now. See you soon."

They sat in Simon's car for a few moments gathering themselves.

"What now, sir?"

"We carry on as normally as we can."

"How can we do that with Blair out there somewhere?" the ex-Ranger said his hands indicating outside of the car. "We have to find him ourselves. We should be out looking for him and not scouring morgues and viewing bodies. Blair is alive damnit!"

"Look where, Jim? Cascade National Forest is hundreds of square miles. There are people looking for Blair, trained people. All we can do is wait for news and pray. Blair may even be able to find a way to contact us."

"You think he's alive too?" Jim asked entreatingly.

"Until I have evidence to the contrary, I will continue to believe he's alive. I have to admit it's not looking good, Jim, but one thing I know about Sandburg is that he's resourceful. We've just got to be patient and wait for a break." Jim didn't look convinced. "I know it's hard, Jim, but there's nothing else for it. As hard as it is, and unless we know to the contrary, life must go on."

Jim thought for a moment sitting alone at the loft worrying and waiting didn't appeal to the detective. The prospect of working and keeping his mind occupied did.

"Okay, Simon, let's go home," Jim said the words but they were hollow.

Home. Cascade wasn't home without Blair but he could do nothing for now and he knew there was no alternative.

Simon was glad his friend was seeing things more clearly and started the car and they headed back to Cascade.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The two hour journey seemed long to Jim, he couldn't stop thinking about Blair and where he was. Was he alright? Was he all alone or hurt? Was he thinking how his 'blessed protector' would save him any moment? He had shot and killed someone to save his life, he needed to talk to him about that. Blair had been his 'blessed protector' that day. Blair had to let it out and not let it bottle up inside of him. He had looked really shocked the last time he had seen him; Jim regretted leaving him alone in the loft now. He should have stayed, should have realised he was in no fit state to be left on his own after what had happened. But hindsight was a wonderful thing. 

"Are you angry at the kid?" Simon suddenly asked.

"Yes. No." Jim replied. "I'm as proud as hell of him! Simon, he backed me up like a true partner. He might not have the training of a cop but he's got the heart of one."

Simon smiled to himself. "He has got good instincts." The captain replied amazed at himself for vocally complimenting the grad student. "Just don't tell Sandburg I said that."

Jim glanced over at this captain the hint of a smile on his face. "He might not have formal training, sir, but he did everything right at that store. I'm only here now because of him."

"I hope you tell the kid that, Jim."

"I plan to when we find him and we 'will' find him, sir."

Simon nodded his solidarity at that statement.

They drove for a while in silence, each thinking their own thoughts.

Jim was so wrapped up in his own thoughts it took his cellphone's third ring for him to even register what the sound was. Simon glanced over at the detective with an 'are you going to answer that' look on his face.

"Ellison," he said gruffly finally answering on the fifth ring.

"Detective Ellison, this is Monica Cheyne, I was wondering if you had any news on my husband's murder."

"No, Mrs Cheyne, I've been working on some leads but I was called away on a personal matter."

"Oh," she said, her voice sounding deflated. 

"I'm on my way back to Cascade now to continue with the investigation. Rest assured I will give it my up most attention. I'll contact you as soon as I have any information I can give to you."

Simon's eyebrows rose at Jim's spiel. 

"Okay, thank you, detective. Bye."

"Bye," and Jim gratefully disconnected the call.

"Nice flam job, Jim," Simon said still watching the road ahead of them.

"Thanks, Simon," the Sentinel replied feeling guilty enough as it was. 

Jim was also realising he couldn't help Blair until he knew where he was. He couldn't find him on his own; he had no idea where to start to look for him. Until he did he had to let others search for him, they could cover more ground than he could alone. Jim felt like he was betraying Blair, sat in Simon's car going in the opposite direction to where his partner likely was. When Simon had been kidnapped by Quinn, he and Blair had had a trail to follow, there were no such clues this time.

But he also couldn't get Monica Cheyne's face out of his mind or that of her murdered husband. Craig Cheyne deserved justice too and he realised he had to put his fears and anxieties concerning his Guide aside for the moment, and focus on his primary role as investigator for the city of Cascade.

Jim realised he had to continue the investigation alone. He didn't like that thought one iota; but until his partner was found safe and sound it looked like he was flying solo for a while.

Simon drove into the Police Headquarters underground car park and turned off the ignition. The two friends sat quietly for a few moments.

"Do you think someone will come forward for that man we saw in Toledo, Simon?" there was a sad but entreating tone to the detective's voice.

"I hope so," Simon replied then glanced at his friend. "What is it, Jim?" knowing there was more to it.

"I'm glad it wasn't Blair."

"Me too," the captain replied quietly. "Come on, Jim, let's get some coffee before we get back to work."

The two Police officers exited Simon's car and headed into the station.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Two blue eyes opened slowly and moved from side to side trying to understand what they were seeing. The room was unfamiliar. The blue eyes gazed lower, he was lying in a bed in a small room. Then he saw that there was a figure sat in a chair beside his bed, his head resting on his hand as he slept sat up in the chair. The elderly man had grey hair and the brown robe of a monk. 

Then it came back to him in a rush. Brother Marcus, the monastery, he was at St. Sebastian's and he was there because he'd killed a man to save Jim's life. Blair swallowed against the rising lump in his throat as he relived the gun going off in his hand, the robber falling to the jewellery store's floor.

"Blair, good you're awake," said Brother Marcus as he woke and stretched. "How are you feeling?" 

The anthropologist didn't answer; his eyes were still darting round the room as he remembered what he had done. 

Blair?!" and the monk touched the younger man on the arm. Blair jumped and looked round at the brother with a sharp gasp. "I didn't mean to startle you."

"Brother Marcus?" the anthropologist's voice was scratchy and dry.

"Yes, Blair, do you remember how you got here?"

"Not really," Blair replied.

Marcus reached forward and touched the young man's forehead.

"Your fever is much better. Are you hungry?"

Blair shook his head. "Thirsty."

"I'll get you something to drink. Blair," the monk added quietly before rising. "You spoke in your fever last night." Blair's blue eyes darted to the monk. "You said you killed someone to protect Jim."

Blair looked away and closed his eyes, afraid to look at the monk, afraid at what he would think of him, that he would judge him for what he had done. As he had once judged the monk before when he had found out who he had been in his former life. Now the shoe was on the other foot. 

"Blair," the monk said, but the young man's eyes remained closed. "Blair," and this time the blue eyes opened and looked round at the older man. "It's okay, Blair. God forgives many sins."

"I killed a man," Blair replied his voice a husk of emotion and pain.

"In your delirium you said you saved Jim's life. Jim is a good man, a noble and honourable man, I could tell that when you and he were here a year ago. He protects people and that is a good thing."

"Do you condone then that a bad man, a robber who was threatening not only a Police officer's life, but also that of a shop worker's is dead?"

"No," Marcus replied simply. "It is not up to me to judge Blair; that is God's job. We can do no more or no less than we do. It is done. What you did you did out of love. The man is dead but Jim is alive. I did some terrible things in my past life before I came here. I've tried very hard to atone for those past deeds."

"Do you think you have?"

"I don't know. That will be my first question to God when I am called."

Blair's lips turned up slightly at Marcus' words. "How long have I been here?"

"Since yesterday," Marcus answered. "Your friend will be worried about you. Should we call him?"

"Yes. No," Blair added straight away. "I know Jim will be worried about me but I need a bit more time to get things right in my head first."

Marcus nodded. "How did you come to be in the river?"

"I fell off a cliff in the forest. I washed up on the shore and must have wandered for some time. I don't really remember much after getting out of the river." Blair grimaced as he tried to move position in the bed.

"I'll get you something to make you more comfortable and you need food and drink."

"I'm not really hungry," Blair countered.

"You need to recover your strength."

The anthropologist didn't say anything as Marcus left the room. There was a tangible silence in the tiny cell after the monk had left. Blair remembered waking up before at the monastery and Brother Marcus had been there then too. But it was all hazy and surreal. Blair took stock of his injuries, his head and thigh throbbed and his body ached. He reached up and felt a bandage on his temple, his body complaining at the movement. He felt bruised all over and remembered he had been battered against numerous unseen rocks beneath the foaming river's surface. It had been a wild ride and not a very pleasant one. A rollercoaster was tame compared to that turbulent river. 

The observer's thoughts turned to his partner. Jim would be so worried about him and he knew he should get the monks to contact him and let him know where he was. But Blair felt tired and he still had a lot to get right in his head first. He had killed someone and he didn't regret that it had saved Jim's, but he wasn't a cop, he wasn't trained to kill and get through that situation easily. A man was dead, no matter whether that man was good or bad; the man was dead because of him.

Blair closed his eyes to get rid of the sound of the gun booming in his hand, of driving by later and seeing the man's body lying prone on the jewellery store's floor. Jim's face filled Blair's thoughts, his friend, his Sentinel was alive. He just had to focus on that. He was alive only because Blair had acted quickly before the situation had gotten uglier. Jim had been losing the fight with the robber and if Blair hadn't have stepped in; he would probably be mourning his friend's loss now. 

That thought made Blair think and he realised that was probably what Jim was doing now, mourning him because he feared he was dead, drowned in the river. Blair felt awful for putting him through that for even a second longer than was necessary. But Blair was tired, so very tired and just wanted to lie in the quiet of the cell room of the monastery and not remember who he was for a few more minutes. Be anonymous and not Blair Sandburg anthropologist, full time Sentinel Guide and part time Police observer.

Blair closed his eyes as he felt himself falling asleep again. He still felt warm, unnaturally warm and knew he still had the fever he had developed from the freezing cold water. Perhaps when his fever cleared he would feel better and more able to face Jim and the world again. For now he just wanted to rest quietly and forget, forget everything that was part of his normal life.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Jim, can you come into my office for a moment," Simon Banks called from his office doorway.

The detective glanced up on hearing his name being called. He realised he'd been miles away, zoned but not in a Sentinel way, his mind was on his partner. Concern and fear overriding his conscious thoughts, he realised he'd been poring over the same report for at least fifteen minutes but not actually making any headway with it.

"Jim, I don't know how to tell you this," the Captain sat on the front of his desk as his detective walked into his office and stood before him. 

"What is it, sir? Have they found Sandburg? Is he okay?" when Simon didn't reply. "Is he hurt?" again there was silence. "Is it bad? Where is he?"

"Jim, they haven't found Sandburg. They're scaling down the search."

"No, they can't. He's out there, Simon. I should have continued searching myself. I have to find him. I'm going back out there. I found you after Quinn kidnapped you. I didn't know where to look but I still found you. Why did Blair leave like that alone? I know he was upset, I should have talked to him. Helped him. Instead I came back to work and left him alone and upset...I..."

"Easy, Jim, take a breath," his friend was sounding more like Sandburg by the moment. The incessant babbling a big give away. "Jim, listen to me," the captain said quietly. "They've searched the river and the surrounding area. They think his body got washed out to sea."

"No!!" Jim exploded. "No!!!" he turned away from Simon and kicked the nearest thing, the leg of the table in front of him.

"Calm down, Jim, this isn't helping. You've just got to face facts and let the kid go."

"No, you may not care what's happened to him, Simon, but I do!"

"Jim!" Simon replied fury evident in his voice. "Don't forget who you're talking to!"

"Sorry, sir," the detective replied contritely, cooling his outside appearance, but inside he was a witch's cauldron bubbling with intensity.

"I care about that kid too, but he's been gone three days, Jim."

"He's alive, Simon, I know it."

"I sincerely hope he is but there's no leads nothing to go on and until we get something concrete there's nothing we can do," the Major Crimes captain said calmly but firmly.

"There must be something. I won't believe Sandburg is dead until you can show me his body, sir. I'm going to cling on to the hope, no matter how slim that is, until he is found 'alive'. And he is going to be found alive."

If hope were a physical thing, then Jim's hope for his friend would pay dividends.

"Why don't you go home, detective, you're not doing us any good here. You look tired, Jim. Did you sleep at all last night?"

"Some," Jim lied. How could he sleep when the loft was empty, his Guide's heartbeat undetectable and silent when it normally filled the loft with its joy of presence. 

Jim thought of all the work he had to do, the Cheyne murder being a priority. But he wouldn't solve that crime or any other the way he was at the moment.

Jim knew Simon was right, he'd mentioned the search he'd made when Quinn had kidnapped him, but he'd had a trail to follow that day. At the riverbank where Blair had gone over the edge, there was no trail to follow in that turbid water. The ground too extensive for one Sentinel to cover; even if it was to locate his Guide.

All the Sentinel could do was wait agonisingly for a clue as to Blair's location. Jim felt weary down to his soul, he couldn't remember the last time he'd slept for more than a few hours or had a decent meal. But he didn't care anymore.

"All right, sir," he acquiesced. "If you hear anything."

"I'll call you at the loft," Simon promised. "I wish there was something I could say."

"I know, Simon, I understand. Just don't lose faith."

"I won't," and the captain meant it. "Take care of yourself, Jim."

Jim nodded too tired to say anything more. The detective went back to his desk, tidied up the work he'd been attempting to do and left for home. He walked down to his truck in the underground car park and sat for a few moments composing himself. He'd nearly lost it with his captain. He had been so angry with his captain's pessimistic attitude, how could he dare believe Sandburg was gone. He expected more from his friend than that. 

"Where the hell are you, Chief?" Jim said to no one in particular. 

There was nothing but silence. With a heavy sigh the Sentinel started the Ford and drove back to the loft. 

Once there he parked and went up slowly to the front door letting himself in and going over to sit on the couch. Perhaps it hadn't been such a good idea to leave work after all. Now he was resigned to sitting and waiting, hoping for the phone to ring. He didn't feel like eating, reading or watching TV. He reached out with his Sentinel senses but there was nothing. The neighbours were out. There were heartbeats in Collette's shop on the ground floor but other than that all was silent. 

Jim rested his head on the back of the couch and sighed, feeling despair and depression like he had never felt it before. He didn't like its feeling and knew it could only be reversed by the appearance of his friend again. He closed his eyes against the pain and emptied his mind of the pain and thoughts. He didn't want to feel anything right now and slowly, without realising it, he drifted into a light sleep. 

The detective woke with a start and realised he was lying on the couch in the loft. He'd been asleep for a couple of hours. Awareness of the past few days hit him with the full force of a hurricane.

Blair was dead.

No, he told himself he wasn't, he couldn't be. He raised his arm over his eyes to blot out the conclusions his thoughts were jumping to.

Blair the human dynamo was gone. But Jim was a detective and detectives used logic and deduction. Blair had been gone for three days and surely there would have been word by now. Blair would have gotten word to him if he had been able to. If he could that is, maybe he was unconscious in a hospital. No, all hospitals in a 150 mile radius of Cascade had been canvassed and no unknown person fitting Sandburg's description had been admitted.

Reluctantly Jim was beginning to think that Simon's observation had been right. Blair's body had been taken out to sea by the river. The river had been running pretty fast and wild, not to mention cold.

Jim scrunched his eyes closed as a tear silently tracked its way down the side of his face and into his hairline. He couldn't believe it he was really starting to believe that Blair was dead. When had his hope and optimism deserted him? How could he even contemplate the heinous thought that Blair was dead? He rolled onto his side and sighed in despair. How could he contemplate life without his friend and Guide?

'Life sucked,' Jim thought despairingly and smiled to himself despite his melancholy that that was something Blair would say.

Jim hadn't realised in his antithesis that he had been shutting down his senses. In his grief he was folding in on himself. The emptiness of the anthropologist's loss was causing him to shut himself off from the world. He realised he had done that before. He was turning back into the hard, laconic man that Simon Banks had inherited when he had become captain of Major Crimes. Jim didn't want to become that man again but without Blair he couldn't see any alternative. He didn't want to hurt or feel again, he wanted the blessed oblivion of nothingness. Not to love or be loved, then there would be no pain. He'd opened himself to Sandburg's friendship and love and what had that gotten him but a world of hurt.

Jim was so wrapped up in his self pity and his senses were dialled down so low, he didn't hear the phone ringing at first. He didn't want to answer it, he didn't want to speak to anyone; that would cost too much effort and energy he didn't have any more. But then reason prevailed and the Sentinel thought it might be Simon with the inevitable news on Blair that he was now half expecting.

Jim picked up the receiver with equal amounts of expectancy and reticence, wondering if the caller would give him good or bad news. Bad news had a way of finding you wherever you were.

"Hello," Jim said.

"Is this Detective Jim Ellison?" a male voice asked.

"Yes."

"This is Abbot Jeremy of St. Sebastian's Monastery."

Jim's mind whirled on why the abbot would suddenly be calling him and not asking to speak to Blair. It was after all Blair who had introduced him to the monks in the first place. Blair was their friend more than his.

"Detective Ellison, I'm calling about Blair Sandburg."

"What about Blair?" Jim's heart nearly leapt out of his chest as it hammered in anticipation and the Sentinel held his breath for the answer.

"He's here, detective," Jeremy stated simply and Jim closed his eyes with relief.

"Is he okay?"

"That's a definitive word."

"What do you mean?" and Jim found himself worrying again.

"Yes, physically he's fine but emotionally is another matter." 

Marcus has told him the details of what Blair had spoken in his delirium. Jeremy knew Blair has shot someone to save the detective's life.

"I don't understand."

"Can you come here to St. Sebastian's, I'll explain everything to you then."

"I'll be there as soon as I can."

"Good, see you soon, detective."

"Bye and thank you, Abbot Jeremy, for contacting me."

"You're welcome, detective," and the abbot hung up.

Jim smiled and felt a weight lift off of him. Blair was alive. ALIVE!!! He remembered what the abbot had said that Blair was okay physically but not emotionally. The kid had been through a harrowing ordeal falling off a cliff and all. But even as he thought it the Sentinel knew what was troubling his friend. The shooting. Now that Jim knew where he was he could help him overcome any obstacle.

Jim dialled Simon's number to tell him the good news and then he had a long drive ahead of him. He was going to bring his partner home.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim stopped the truck and immediately got out. Unlike when he and Blair had visited the monastery a year earlier the Sentinel didn't wait for the pre-arranged yellow school bus to meet him. Instead he had driven straight to the monastery himself and stopped his truck outside the main building.

Even as he rushed up the stairs, the front door opened and Jeremy stood there waiting for him.

"Detective Ellison, it's good to see you," and the abbot held out his hand, Jim took it and shook it briefly.

"Where is he?" the Sentinel asked immediately, as he didn't have the time or patience for pleasantries.

If Abbot Jeremy was taken aback by the younger man's abruptness he didn't show it.

"Before I take you to Blair I'd like to speak to you first."

"Where's Blair?" Jim asked again, he didn't want to talk he wanted to see his friend and see with his own eyes that he was alright.

"I know you are eager to see Blair but a few minutes of your time is all I ask, then I'll take you to your friend. Please, detective, I want to explain about Blair's condition."

"Condition?" the detective asked in alarm. "What do you mean by condition? What's wrong with him? Answer me?"

"Come to my office and let me explain. It won't take long."

The detective sighed and resigned himself and let the abbot lead him through the monastery to a room he recognised from his previous visit. He sat in the chair on the other side of Jeremy's desk and gazed at the monk. Most people would be terrified by the steely Ellison glare, but the monk just continued to look passively at the detective with a serene look on his face.

"So what's wrong with my partner?" Jim asked directly.

"Brother William, he's our latest addition, replacing Brother Christopher who you know died…" Jeremy stopped when the detective raised his hand to stop him.

"Just the facts, please."

"Of course, detective," the abbot replied contritely. "Brother William found Blair unconscious in the garden. He told Marcus that he fell into the river, which is a good trek from here."

"When was this?"

"Yesterday."

"Yesterday, but he's been missing for nearly three days and no one bothered to call me!"

"Blair asked us not to."

"Why would he do that?" Jim asked incredulously.

"I imagine it has something to do with the shooting don't you," the abbot replied both testily and accusingly, and then offered a silent prayer for his lack of tolerance.

"Blair told you?"

"No, he developed a fever, as Brother Marcus tended to him he spoke about the shooting in his confused state."

"I see."

"Brother Marcus has stayed with Blair constantly, he hasn't left his side once despite my insistence he take a break and let one of the other monks spell him. Marcus has a soft spot for that young man."

"Blair has a way with people," Jim added.

Jeremy nodded "Blair is very fragile at the moment. He's having a hard time dealing with his actions."

"Is he still sick? You said he had a fever," Jim asked concerned.

"He is much improved. I'll take you to him now. Just bear in mind he is a little overawed and emotional at the moment. I know he will be glad to see you."

Jeremy stood and Jim followed him out. Jim could feel butterflies in his stomach as he wondered what his friend would think and feel when he saw him. The grad student had shot and killed someone to save his life. When you were as sensitive as Blair was, it wasn't every day you had that on your conscience to deal with.

Finally Jeremy stopped outside of a cell and opened the door. Inside Jim could see Blair lying on a bed, Marcus was sat on a chair beside the bed. Blair looked pale, his cheeks flushed and his eyes were closed but he looked peacefully asleep. Marcus stood up when he saw Jim and smiled a quiet smile.

"I'll be back in a little while, Blair," the monk said and moved quietly to the door. 

There was no movement from the anthropologist, no indication that he had heard the monk speak: Only the steady rise and fall of his partner's chest the only outward sign that Blair was even alive. Jim moved silently to the bed and sat down in the vacated chair. Content just to sit and drink in the sight of his friend who was very much alive.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim's face was so relieved to see his friend, when Jeremy had told him Blair was at the monastery the detective could hardly believe it. It was the last place he thought where Blair would be. He didn't truly believe it until he saw his friend with his own eyes. Now he did the relief washed over him. Blair's eyes opened but they were hooded. They moved to the chair beside his bed. His eyes widened in surprise when he saw his friend, he had expected to see Marcus. He quickly looked away shocked to see the Sentinel. Then Blair's eyes went back to his friend whose eyes hadn't moved from his face.

Jim didn't speak and a loud silence hung in the air.

"Hi, Chief, it's good to see you," Jim finally said but there was no response or acknowledgment that he was even in the room. "I wish I could trade places with you, Blair." Jim said his voice barely more than a whisper, but the anthropologist had heard it and the sincerity spoken in those words. 

"Why?" Blair asked, his voice was quiet but the pain in the tone was all too evident to the Sentinel.

"So I can take away the pain you're feeling. I'm a cop. I've killed before when I was a Ranger and since I've been a cop. I'm trained in how to deal with it." Jim took a deep breath and dry washed his hands as he tried to find the right words to say. "When we came here a year ago Abbot Jeremy accused me of entering his world with my cynicism and my gun. Look what entering my world has done to you, Chief. You killed someone for me. I asked you before to carry a gun, you refused and I respected that decision. I know how hard it is for you to see a dead body."

Blair's eyes flicked to Jim's for a few moments. "Yeah, a great partner for a cop I turned out to be."

"No, don't say that. You're you, Chief, you're not a robot, you have feelings and I understand that."

"But I'm no help to you," Blair replied despondently.

"Chief, you're more help to me than I even know how to express or thank you for. You help me every day. Blair, you saved my life. There's no greater gift anyone can give a person."

"You saved mine, when you saved me from Lash."

"That's what partners do, look out for each other and watch the other's back. I'm sorry you had to kill someone for me, Blair. If you hadn't I probably wouldn't be here now but if you hadn't been riding with me in the first place you wouldn't be dealing with all this now."

Blair was thinking about what his friend was saying and what Marcus had said earlier; things started to become unscrambled in his head.

"I'm not sorry I found out about Sentinels or that that search led me to you. Jim, I would shoot that robber again in a heartbeat if it meant saving your life." Blair swallowed and composed his thoughts. "It's just hard to come to terms with the fact that I took another person's life."

Jim nodded in comprehension. "I understand, Chief. It will take time, but you know I'll help you any way I can. Are you ready to come home now?" he enquired.

"No," his friend replied straight away.

Jim was a bit shocked by his friend's prompt reply, he hadn't even thought about his friend not wanting to return to Cascade with him. 

"It's kind of peaceful here. The monks have been really good to me, especially Brother Marcus, he's rarely left my side."

"He's a good man," Jim replied.

"Despite his dubious past," Blair replied.

"That's where Jackie Kosinski belongs, he's no longer that man. It's good for the soul here huh, Chief?"

"Something like that," Blair replied looking at the wooden walls of the cell, then instantly focusing his blue eyes back on his friend. "Why don't you stay here for a few days too, Jim."

"The last time we stayed here two of the monks were murdered. Besides I'm still working on that bouncer murder case."

"Any leads?" the anthropologist replied his curiosity instantly piqued.

"A few but nothing concrete yet."

"Any suspects?"

Jim shook his head. He wanted to tell his friend that he needed his help but he didn't want to pressurise him into returning before he was ready. 

Blair was torn between hiding from what had happened and returning to be Jim's back-up, but nothing was more important to the Guide than protecting his Sentinel.

"Jim, what's wrong?" Blair asked noticing the perplexed look on his friend's face.

"You're sick, Chief," the detective had suddenly realised. Abbot Jeremy had told him Blair had had a fever but he had been so concerned with Blair's mental state that he had overlooked the physical readings his friend was giving off, including the heat emanating from his body.

"I'm fine really. The river was cold man."

"I bet. Perhaps you should stay here for a few more days."

"No, I think I should return home with you. It's just a low grade fever. Brother Marcus has been giving me some natural remedies."

"I bet that made your day," Jim retorted.

"Natural is best, man."

"Whatever. Are you sure? The rest here would do you good?"

"Yeah, I'm sure. I'll get dressed. My friend and Sentinel needs me to back him up."

"Okay," Jim replied nodding with satisfaction at Blair's resolve. "I'll go tell Jeremy."

Jim walked over to, and opened the door, then stopped and turned back to his roommate.

"It's good to have you back, Chief," he said from the doorway.

Blair nodded and smiled as his friend left him to get ready. His clothes that had taken such a battering in the river had been cleaned and repaired by the monks. The anthropologist was just tying his shoe laces up when there was a knock at the door.

"Come in," Blair said looking up as he sat on the bed and continued to tie his shoelaces.

"I hear you're leaving us," Marcus said as he entered the cell, sadness evident in his voice.

"Yeah, Jim needs me."

"What about you, Blair, what do you need? Are you well enough, Blair?"

"I'm fine. I want to thank you for looking after me so well."

"You're welcome. You can always come here if you ever need a sanctuary, Blair."

"I know, thank you, Brother Marcus," Blair replied as he stood up. He smiled at the older man and stepped forward and gave the monk a hug.

Marcus was sorry to be losing his friend; he did so enjoy their talks. The other monks were great spiritual men, but none were on the intellectual echelons that Blair was. 

Blair waved to the monks from Jim's truck as they departed. He couldn't help but notice the sad expression on Marcus' face. Unlike the first visit to the monastery when they had waited for the yellow bus to pick them up, the detective had driven straight to the monastery in his haste to check on his Guide. 

The journey back to Cascade was wet. Blair listened to the windscreen wipers and feeling hypnotised by their rhythm he began to feel drowsy. He still wasn't feeling a hundred per cent and he noticed that Jim had put the heat on in the truck. As a result he closed his eyes and drifted into a light sleep. Before he knew it Jim was parking outside the loft. Blair rubbed his tired eyes, glad to see the familiar neighbourhood out of the truck's window.

It was dark and the rain had given way to a persistent drizzle. Blair hadn't gotten rid of the fever totally and went straight to bed, too tired to eat or do anything but rest. It was all he had been doing for the past couple of days but he was still tired. 

Jim looked out at the darkness, the rain was still falling and he watched a raindrop snake down the window of the lounge. He tuned his Sentinel senses onto Blair's room glad to hear the familiar heartbeat where it belonged. Having Blair back made him feel centred. He realised he hadn't been the nicest person to be around of late and he made a mental note to apologise to Simon in particular, whose head he had bitten off more than once. But Blair's loss had been too much for him to take.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Blair opened his eyes and gazed upon the familiar items in his room. He sighed and rolled onto his back realising he was home. It felt good to be home in the loft again. He also realised that he felt better too, sometime during the night his fever had finally broken. His body still felt a little stiff but it didn't hurt too much when he moved. He sat up slowly and reached for the wound on his forehead, which also felt better and was slowly healing. 

He got out of bed carefully, taking his time before putting his full weight on his bruised legs. They didn't feel too bad, a little tight but manageable. He moved slowly to the door allowing his body to wake up slowly. The smell of coffee and toasting bagels assaulted his nose as soon as his bedroom door opened. Looking out he could see Jim in the kitchen making breakfast.

"Morning, Chief," the Sentinel asked. "How are you feeling?"

"Much better, thanks."

"Your temperature's back to normal."

"How can you tell"?

Jim raised his eyebrows at the absurdity of the statement.

"Of course," Blair laughed as he made his way to the kitchen island. 

"I thought scrambled egg would be the breakfast of choice this morning, light on your stomach."

Blair was appreciative of the thoughtfulness of his roommate. He went to the bathroom first and then made his way to the table and sat down as Jim brought him some orange juice to start with. 

"You don't have to do all this, I can make breakfast."

"I know but I was up and hungry."

"Thanks, Jim," the anthropologist said to Jim's back as the detective made his way to the kitchen to start on the scrambled eggs.

"For breakfast?"

"No man, for coming for me last night and bringing me home. The monks were great but I was wallowing in self pity there. It feels right to be back here and I feel more focused and positive today."

"You should take it easy and rest today."

"Are you joking? Yesterday you said you were working on a case, I want to help."

"Chief, yesterday I thought you were dead."

"You did?!"

"Well not really, but it was a close thing. The facts were saying you were gone but my heart was telling me you were still alive. I felt so helpless, even with my abilities I couldn't find you."

"I'm here now," Blair replied noticing the wounded tone in his friend's voice.

Jim nodded as he finished the eggs and dished them out between the two plates. There was a knock at the door. Blair started to stand to answer it. 

"I got it, Chief."

Blair knew Jim wasn't going to let him do anything that day. Blair didn't want any fuss but he also knew when not to go against the Sentinel's wishes. If Jim felt like he had to pamper the grad student then Blair would indulge him this once.

Jim opened the door to reveal the captain of Major Crimes.

"Sandburg!" the captain said, his voice betraying the emotion he was feeling but trying to keep his tone remaining even and in total control.

"Morning, Simon," Blair said cheerfully. "It's good to see you too," he added seeing the captain's joy at seeing him, despite the man trying to remain aloof.

Simon cleared his throat as he came in and lifted his head slightly. "You gave us all quite a scare there."

"You and me both, but I'm fine, captain, as you can see," and Blair was feeling much better. 

Coming home where he belonged had put everything in perspective, talking to Jim and Marcus had helped put everything into context. Although he couldn't ignore what he had done, it had been done for all the right reasons. If he hadn't he would now be the one grieving in the loft alone and Jim would now be dead and the robber would be alive. That was all the perspective and context he needed.

"Breakfast, Simon?" Blair asked.

"No, I'm fine," the captain replied walking over to the table. 

"Coffee?" Jim asked.

"Yeah thanks, Jim."

Simon sat at the table opposite Blair. The kid looked in surprisingly good shape considering his ordeal. 

"Shouldn't you be in the hospital or something?" he enquired looking closely at the head wound on the anthropologist that was a lovely shade of purple around the cut.

Though the kid looked better than he was expecting, he was still pale and the gash on his head looked sore.

"No, the monks took real good care of me," the grad student replied. "Gave me some natural remedies, fixed me right up. Better than any doctor or hospital could do."

Jim put Blair's breakfast in front of him then.

"Thanks, Jim, this looks good," his roommate replied digging in. "I've got my appetite back."

Jim smiled at his partner, his swagger and exuberance were definitely back and from his Guide's steady heartbeat he wasn't faking it for his benefit. Blair really was feeling better, stronger and determined to put the past few days behind him.

"Jim's been hell to be around the past few days," Simon stated. 

"Sorry about that, Simon. I know I was a bear with a sore head. I want to apologise for..."

Simon raised his hand to forestall the detective's words. "I understand, Jim, believe me. We were both concerned for the kid there for a while."

"I am here you know," the anthropologist added. "I'm okay. Enough of the recriminations. There's a case to be solved. The bouncer murder and I need details, man," he said between bites of his breakfast. "Now fill me in, Jim. What have I missed?"

Jim and Simon exchanged exasperated glances. The grad student was back with a vengeance. 

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Simon decided to leave for the station before Jim and Blair were ready, telling them he would meet them at the Major Crimes office. At the door Simon stopped and turned for a moment. 

"Glad you're okay, Blair," he stated. 

Those four words felt like a badge of honour to the young anthropologist. 

Blair smiled but before he could reply the captain was gone. Blair knew the surly captain cared about him; he just didn't always know how to show it. He had to admit that it never ceased to amaze him how accepting the brotherhood of cops had been in admitted him into their tightly knit society. 

Blair didn't have any uni business that day so he was free to help Jim on the bouncer case. Jim was close to putting it aside as he had followed up all obvious leads and it wasn't the only murder case on his books. There was no obvious motive; Craig Cheyne was well liked by his wife and fellow employees at the club. He had no obvious enemies and no one with a vendetta against him. The finger was pointing at a terrible price for a man to pay for just doing his job. A nightclub bouncer did not hold a badge or a gun but he faced the general public as any cop did daily. A bouncer enforced rules like a cop did and when a member of that general public took affront to the impact of those rules, then sometimes the clientele reacted like any suspect did with antagonism.

Jim wasn't sure if they would ever find out who had killed the bouncer unless they got a break.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The break came after lunch the same day. Jim and Blair entered the Bullpen.

"Hey, Hairboy!! Detective Henri Brown called from his desk, a huge smile lighting up his face. Henri had been out all morning and had not seen Blair earlier in the day. "Good to see you. How you doing?"

"Fine thanks, H," Blair called over as he followed Jim to his desk.

"We were worried about you there for a while."

"You know me, H, I always bounce back," Blair replied a little embarrassed by H's reaction and that Rafe was also watching him from across the Bullpen.

"Jim, there's message for you, some guy called Ashley Orcheston wants to meet you at 3pm at a café on the waterfront. He said he had information for you on the bouncer murder," H told his fellow detective. "I've put all the details he gave me in the file and he said he'd be wearing a brown jacket and be at the back of the café."

"Thanks, H," Jim replied picking up the message and reading it for himself. "This could be the break we're looking for," Jim told his partner. 

Jim handed Blair the note to read. "The Lite Bite," the anthropologist commented. "I don't know it."

"It's in one of the areas for tourists, usually a lot of people from out of town around there. We've got a couple of hours to kill, Chief, how about we make a start on some paperwork."

"Man, here I was thinking you needed me today for my input."

"I do, Chief, but on a practical front. No one does paperwork like you do, Chief. Besides you're still recuperating from your ordeal and paperwork is just the ticket. I'll get the coffee."

Blair sat down at Jim's desk, his legs and body still aching from the ordeal he had been through. He felt a lot better than he had a few days ago, more positive in mind and body. He looked at the mound of files on Jim's work and picked up the first one, immersing himself in the detective's paperwork.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

A little while later, Simon called Blair into his office, without Jim. Jim dialled down his hearing so he couldn't hear the conversation, respecting his captain's privacy in his office. At first he thought the captain wanted a quiet word with the observer about how glad he was to see him back. But when he happened to glance up the detective saw his friend's head drop to look down at his lap. Jim knew something was wrong and he unashamedly dialled his hearing back up to listen to the conversation. Something wasn't right.

"I'm sorry I had to ask you that question, Sandburg," Simon said his voice tinged with regret.

"Why Simon? I'm not a cop, not one of your team."

"But you are, Blair, and you have been for some time. I take very seriously the welfare of all my staff and that includes you."

"But how can you even consider that I would do that?"

"I don't, but I have to ask you the question. It's part of being the captain of this department. It hurts me more than you can know to ask. Blair, please just answer me and we can then forget this ever happened. Blair, did you fall or did you jump from the cliff?"

Jim couldn't believe what his captain was asking. He was asking if Blair had tried to kill himself. The detective started to rise up and head into his captain's office and just ask him what the hell he was playing at. But then he would give away that he had been eavesdropping and Simon would probably never trust himself to say anything sensitive in his office if Jim were around. No, he would have to let Blair handle this himself. Jim looked down at his paperwork but kept listening as he waited for Blair's response.

"Captain," Blair eventually responded formally. "I admit that I did something that morning that shook me to my core. I took a man's life but the reason behind that action far outweighs any personal remorse or guilt I could ever feel about my actions. Jim's life. I would do it again without hesitation if it meant saving his life. I'm Jim's partner and his back-up and whilst I'm not a cop, I take that responsibility seriously. So, captain, whilst I admit I was in shock and traumatised by the shooting, I categorically deny trying to take my own life. I went to the forest to gather my thoughts and put things in perspective. I simply slipped and fell into the water. Man, that water was cold. There's no way I would ever want to do that again. There are far easier ways to kill yourself believe me. Not that I have ever tried anything like that ever you understand."

Jim let out a breath, Blair's heartbeat hadn't wavered a fraction, and it had all been a terrible accident. Not that the Sentinel had ever doubted that for a moment, but it was nice to hear Blair actually say the words and confirm what he already knew.

Simon took a deep breath. "Thank you, Blair, I'm sorry I had to ask you that."

"I understand, captain."

"IA wants to speak to you about the incident, just a formality, nothing to worry about. Jim or I could be there with you if you want us to be. And there's departmental counselling available if you need it." 

"Thank you, captain."

Blair stood up to leave and started to walk to the door.

"Sandburg."

"Yeah, captain?"

"It's good to have you back," and Simon grinned as he spoke.

"Thanks, Simon," Blair replied as he reached for the door handle.

Referring to him as captain hadn't lasted long Simon thought as he returned his attention to his burgeoning pile of ever present paperwork, knowing he didn't care and wouldn't have it any other way.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

The Lite Bite was busy as Jim and Blair entered the café. It was quite a large establishment and held a large number of tables. Jim's Sentinel sight zoned in on a man sat with his back to them. He was wearing a brown jacket.

"This way, Chief," Jim said and started to make his way to the back of the café. 

As he walked he scanned the other people in the large room. There were about twenty people sat at various tables talking over coffee and drinking and eating. No one paid them any heed. 

"Ashley Orcheston? I'm Detective James Ellison," the detective said showing the man his badge. 

Jim and Blair sat opposite the man at the square four seat table.

Ashley Orcheston had dark brown hair and eyes, and was of medium build and height. He looked nervously at Jim and then Blair.

"This is my partner, Blair Sandburg," Jim explained as they sat down at the table. Ashley glanced at the all too visible wound on Blair's forehead and was suddenly glad he wasn't a cop.

"You have information about the death of Craig Cheyne," Jim enquired as he noticed the informant staring at his friend.

"Yeah," Ashley replied and looked down into the dark depths of the cup of black coffee in front of him. There were a few long moments before he spoke again. "I knew Craig he was a good kid, he loved his wife but…."

"But what?" Jim gently asked, trying to softly encourage the man to talk but not frighten him off at the same time. He could see his reticence and wanted to quietly encourage him to tell them his information. 

"He loved someone else," Ashley admitted.

"He was having an affair?" Blair asked.

Ashley nodded his head. "Craig told me he was going to leave Monica."

"For the other woman," Jim added.

"No," Ashley replied looked down at his coffee cup and then up at the ceiling and then finally he looked into Jim's eyes. "There wasn't another woman."

"You just said he was having an affair and was going to leave Monica," Jim stated, not a little annoyed by the man's confusing and obtuse statement.

"He was having an affair with a man?" Blair realised and Ashley nodded.

Jim's eyebrows rose as he thought over the implications of the informant's revelation. 

"What's this man's name? Is he the one you think killed Craig"? Jim asked.

Ashley nodded and Jim could see the man was in turmoil.

"They're both my friends," he added and the detective knew it was tearing the man up inside to betray one friend over another. 

"A man is dead," Jim emphasised.

"I know, that's the only reason I'm here, detective. Craig was a good kid and he didn't deserve to die like that."

"Who killed him, Mr Orcheston?" Blair asked imploringly.

"It was...It was Nils Mulberry." Ashley admitted quietly.

Jim was putting it all together. Nils was stood directly beside the other bouncer, he could have easily reached behind and knifed his colleague in the back, as his attention had been solely on the man trying to gain entry wearing the inappropriate clothing for the club. 

"How do you know it was Nils?" Jim asked.

"He confessed to me," Ashley said as he raised his hands and covered his face obviously in turmoil. "Craig told Nils a number of times that he was going to leave Monica for him but he never did. After Craig was," Ashley swallowed to compose himself. "After he died I went to see Nils, he'd been drinking heavily and he was crying. I tried to console him but he kept saying 'I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do it' over and over again. I knew then that he'd done it."

"Will you make a formal statement to this effect?" Jim asked and Ashley nodded. 

He looked at Jim, his eyes haunted and reproachful. 

"I knew Nils had a temper but I never thought he would hurt Craig. I know how much they were in love. I just don't think Craig could bring himself to hurt Monica. I would have done something if I'd have known. Something. Anything. I don't know."

"Thank you for your time," Jim told Ashley as he stood up.

"Are we going to see Nils Mulberry?" Blair asked as they left the café and left the distraught man to reflect what more he could have done to save his friend's life.

Jim nodded grimly.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Nils Mulberry answered his door on the second ring of his doorbell. Jim knew he was in the apartment from his heartbeat. As soon as he saw Jim his heartbeat increased notably. 

"I've given you all the information I know, detective," Nils began.

"I've been given some new and compelling information," Jim stated, his face a neutral mask.

From the determined look on the detective's face Nils knew then that it was all over. He knew he shouldn't have told Ashley what he'd done but the guilt was eating him up inside. He had to tell someone. In some ways he was glad it was all over.

"Come in, detective," Nils said as he opened the door wider to admit the detective and observer.

Once inside the living room Nils was still standing and he turned to face the detective.

"Why did you kill Craig Cheyne?" Jim asked.

Tears immediately sprang in the doorman's eyes and he visibly crumbled. 

"I loved Craig very much. He loved me. He told me, swore to me that he would leave his wife for me but he never did. He kept stringing me along. He didn't want to hurt Monica and yet he was hurting me every time we were together. Part of me believed him but the other half, the realistic half, knew he wouldn't. He broke my heart," and a desperate sob escaped the broken man.

"Were you sleeping with Craig Cheyne?" Jim asked.

Nils nodded. 

Then Blair noticed an open bottle of pills on the coffee table.

"Jim," he said bringing the pills to his friend's attention as he indicated the bottle.

"I was going to kill myself but couldn't do it. I could kill a man, a man I loved but not myself. How ironic is that?" Nils laughed but it was a bittersweet laugh without humour. "I killed the best thing that ever happened to me."

"Nils Mulberry, you are under arrest for the murder of Craig Cheyne. You have the right to remain silent," Jim began to read the man his Miranda rights as the tears began to flow freely down Nils' face. 

The man looked broken and he didn't protest as the detective handcuffed him. 

Blair was thinking that people killed for love but in different ways. He had killed to save his partner's life; Nils Mulberry had killed out of passion. Feeling spurned and rejected. Though the result was the same, Blair realised the reasoning was very different. Then Blair realised he had finally come to term with what he had done. And he finally felt at peace over that action.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

That night the Sentinel and Guide sat back in the lounge after their evening meal. Jim was half watching the news and half watching his friend. Blair's eyes were towards the TV but were unfocused and he was clearly thinking of other things.

"Penny for them," Jim said.

"Uh, what?" Blair asked.

"Your thoughts, Chief."

"I was just thinking about the monks and what they did for me. Do you think we can go back at the weekend to see them? I want to thank them in person for helping me."

"Spiritual men like that don't need thanks," Jim replied and the anthropologist looked crestfallen by his friend's words. He knew he could go on his own but would prefer it if his friend could go with him. "But if it'll make you feel better of course we can go to St. Sebastian's."

Blair smiled. "Thanks, Jim."

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Saturday morning arrived and it was a beautiful sunny day as the Ford truck negotiated the road and Blair was lost in thought. The journey was soon over and they were at the monastery.

Abbot Jeremy came out to meet them as soon as the truck stopped.

"It's good to see you again, Jim, Blair," he said warmly as he shook their hands.

Blair saw Marcus at the top of the steps but not coming forward to greet them. Blair could plainly see there was something troubling the monk.

"Jim," Blair said turning to his friend. "I'd like to speak with Marcus alone. Is that okay, Abbot Jeremy?"

"Of course, Brother Blair. Marcus has been really concerned for you," the abbot replied.

"Jim, why don't we go have morning tea," the abbot suggested as he guided the detective inside. 

"Call me if you need me, Chief," Jim stated before he following the older man into the main monastery building. 

Blair nodded once and then turned his attention to the monk. 

Blair and Marcus started a slow walk round the monastery's lush grounds. The rhododendron bushes were in full bloom, just like they had been a year ago; their pink vibrancy a stark contrast to the verdant green all around them.

"I just wanted to thank you for taking care of me. I don't remember much of it but I do remember every time I woke up you were by my bedside. I just wanted to thank you for everything. I sense you're worried about me."

"I won't lie to you, Blair. You are a very different man than to the one that came here a year ago. The policeman has changed you," Marcus stated.

"Jim is a good man."

"You are not a policeman. When you had the fever you talked about shooting a man."

"To save Jim's life," Blair added quickly.

"That is Jim's world not yours. I fear walking with the detective will take a toll on your soul."

"Marcus, Jim and I have got a very strong platonic friendship. Jim is my soul," Blair countered and stopped walking and turned to stare into the monk's eyes. "But Jim is more than a friend; he's my life's work and more still. I can't give you all the details just yet; all I can do is ask you to trust me. I know what I'm doing."

Marcus sighed and looked away into the distance and then back at the young man candidly talking to him. 

"I didn't realise how much Jim means to you," the monk confessed.

Blair smiled. "Jim is my friend and my soul mate. I trust him to keep me safe and in turn I keep him safe where I can. Jim is a good cop; he helps people, saves lives and so much more. I understand the job is dangerous but there's nowhere else I would rather be than by his side and supporting him. Can you understand that?"

"I admit, Blair, it scares me but I can understand your faith in him. It's not unlike my faith in God. It's absolute and all encompassing."

Blair nodded and Marcus was beginning to see the deep spiritual relationship the two men shared. 

"I will say a prayer for you every day to keep you and your friend safe."

"Thank you, Brother Marcus."

"Remember, Blair, you can always come here any time if your spirit needs a helping hand and you can bring Jim with you, in case his spirit needs help too."

Blair laughed. "Thank you. It's so serene here."

"I like it," and Marcus smiled, the tension between them lifting.

"I promise to write to you this time," Blair added as they started walking back to the monastery building.

"I'll hold you to that, young man," the older man replied.

^^^^^^^^^^^^

Jim and Blair were driving back to Cascade after leaving the monastery. Jim could sense his friend was calmer and more relaxed; more at peace than he had been since the whole thing had blown up in their faces.

"You okay, Chief?"

"Yeah, I am, Jim," the anthropologist replied and smiled over at his friend. "I'm starting to understand what I did and why. Your life for that robber's is what it comes down to and that was easy to rationalise. Your life is too important to lose but not just because I would be alone. It's bigger than just me. That might sound corny but it's true. There are more cases to solve and people to help out there. Your Sentinel abilities help people, avenge people and save people. That's what you do and that's what I help you do. Everything else that happens round that is what we have to deal with and we can deal with it together. That's what partners do. I can face anything as long as we face it together."

Jim listened to Blair as he kept his eyes on the road ahead.

"I hear you, Chief," the Sentinel replied. "Let's go home."

Blair smiled to himself as he settled into the seat and watched the scenery flash by. He was glad he was able to tell Jim that everything was okay, that he was okay. And he was. A part of him was still sad that he had shot someone and killed them, but put in context he could live with that as long as the Sentinel was safe. There was no more rationale needed.

Sentinels protected their Guides and the Guides protected their Sentinels. The same way that friends protected their friends and that was all that Blair needed to know. 

 

THE END.

April 2011


End file.
